


The Wolf

by WickedWon



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, Attempted Kidnapping, Blood and Gore, Dom/sub Undertones, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, It’salotta Whump, Multi, Murder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:46:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 45,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22698862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WickedWon/pseuds/WickedWon
Summary: This is an entirely self-indulgent work in progress that I’ve had in my head for too long. I’ve stuck it on a shelf for now while I experiment with fanfic to learn what the hell I’m doing with words, and will return and edit likely the entire thing and complete it when my skill has improved. Don’t waste your time with it *yet*.It’s mild now but will be a long and dark road by the end and although there will eventually be a reasonably happy ending, the journey to get there definitely won’t be something most will enjoy reading.
Kudos: 5





	1. Nothing like a damn Werewolf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for considering my work! I’m writing this exclusively on my phone’s note pad, so forgive me for editing as I go here. Please consider the tags, more will be added as chapters unfold.
> 
> This will slowly burn into an increasingly cruel ride. If you are understandably sensitive to death, suffering, emotional and physical torture, suicide, rape and everything wrong with the world this will likely not be the fic for you. 
> 
> If you do happen to read any of it, honest comments (even if harsh) are much appreciated.

  
  
*****

  
“So, like a werewolf?” the blonde woman asked. Her pony tail bounced playfully, held up in place with a slightly overly shiny purple scrunchy. She wore a thankfully less garish purple top and black skirt. Cute, even if if the design was a bit out of style, Matt thought to himself. Her expression had been exclusively one of confusion for the past 15 minutes.

They sat near the far corner of “The Langford Pub” just outside of the Harvard University campus. It’s classy atmosphere tended to host more post-business meeting crowds as opposed to the college students needing to let loose. For this reason and it’s close proximity to his apartment, it was Matthew’s preferred bar.

Sneering at the blonde with a disgusted scoff, Angela shook her head, “Nothing like a damn werewolf”.

Angela had become a friend to him over the past two years as they both neared graduation. They studied together often and chatted socially outside of class, though nothing more than a casual friendship would ever come of it. The ambitious brunette was intelligent and driven, Matt respected her determination and knew she’d go far in Law.

She’d kissed Matt once, after a particularly wild party that followed the previous semester’s finals. It was no more than a sloppy, drunken attempt to prolong the festivities in private. He’d peeled her hands out from beneath his collared button-up shirt and politely but firmly declined her advances. After carrying her up her own apartment’s steps, he’d left the woman to her roommate’s care with a bottled water and a couple of Tylenol for the morning at her bedside. She’d apologized the following evening and insisted she harbored no secret feelings for him. He couldn’t know whether that was the truth but the issue was never brought back up again to matter either way.

He trusted Angela though, enough to divulge to her one evening that he wasn’t human. It was one of those facts he’d never try to hide from the very short list of anyone he cared about, but didn’t exactly like to make readily known. Most people had heard of Lupines, or simply Wolves as others called them, though many hadn’t and others refused to acknowledge their existence entirely. Those who knew them to be real tended to have strong opinions of them, and often based on limited factual information. Little information was made known by the species, in fairness.

Hatred was not an uncommon reaction though. So while Matt was far more forthcoming with his identity than many (who outright hid, lied, and went to great lengths to appear to be or to completely avoid humans), he wasn’t going to lead a conversation with it. Luckily, it wasn’t exactly something that came up often.

His outward appearance of course offered no clue that he was anything different than any other person. He was 6’2” and muscular. Broad shouldered and a well-defined frame. His medium brown hair wasn’t something he spent much time fussing over, but he kept it neat and professional and his face clean shaven. His blue eyes were striking and held a depth and distance most people avoided. He carried himself with confidence and though it wasn’t (usually) his intention to come off as threatening to others, he definitely conveyed the demeanor that he shouldn’t be tested. It had nothing to do with what he was though, it was just... him.

And as for the fact that he wasn’t human, his study partner/ friend had apparently found the tidbit worth mentioning to Irene, her childhood friend who was in town visiting for the week, prior to their plans for the three to grab a beer together this evening. He was mildly annoyed that Angela had done so, but shrugged it off as being ultimately, hopefully, irrelevant.

Remembering the conversation that was taking place about him, Matt looked on from the other side of the table as Irene tried to grasp what she was hearing from her increasingly irritated friend. The brunette was no doubt regretting having mentioned the topic. She glanced apologetically to him every so often. Mostly though, she was annoyed that her friend was so clueless.

Matthew tilted his head slightly and shifted his eyes down as he lifted his beer, leaving a damp circle on the paper coaster in front of him. A colorful advertisement for whatever local brewery the pub supported. He spoke more to the beer than the women across the table, “... well, I mean, kinda like a werewolf...”. He glanced up to meet the gaze of the two. One still thoroughly confused, the other comically defensive about the matter.

Angela retorted a flabbergasted reaction toward him, “How can you possibly say that? You’re not a damned make-believe storybook creature”. She paused to squint her eyes and gesture incredulously with her right hand as her left rigidly gripped her own beer. “Who’s side are you even on here?!” she shot at him.

“I’m just trying to help it all make sense for her.” he replied coolly. “There aren’t really ‘sides’ to this conversation”.

“So can you, like, turn into this furry animal with claws and teeth?” the blonde asked.

“HAAA!!!” Angela bellowed, throwing her head back into a sarcastic laugh complete with a dramatic eye roll, as she slapped her palm against the table top. “Of course he can’t!”

“Yes.” Matthew deadpanned toward the blonde.

While Irene processed the scene, Angela hadn’t paused in her display. She finished the swallow of beer she’d just taken.

“Pffff.... you’re such a comedian!” the brunette dismissed Matthew’s reply with a light slap to the man’s shoulder. “... fur and teeth and shit. Get out of here.” she laughed out as a light insult toward the suggestion of her blonde friend.

Matt lifted his right eyebrow and opted to bring the beer, rather than words, to his lips on this specific topic.

After eyeing the table suspiciously with a telling frown through pursed lips, irked by her friend’s insult no doubt, Irene continued, “So what ARE the differences then? What separates you from ... uh.. humanity?”

Matt considered the question for a moment and half-shrugged as he dipped his head to the left, both eye brows raised somewhat. “Immortality, for one. I heal from anything.” he paused to gather more of the list. “My sense of smell is much stronger than yours. Hearing also... a wider range of frequencies. My vision during the day is about comparable to a human with 20/20 vision, though I see a wider spectrum of color than any human. Night vision is dramatically stronger than yours as well”. It was by no means a complete list, but offered mostly neutral discussion points.

It was Angela who cocked her head this time “Wow... I didn’t know about the color spectrum thing. That’s pretty cool”.

Irene seemed understandably stuck in disbelief, her eyes still narrowed and lips pursed.

“Anything...?” she side-eyed him suspiciously. “Like, let’s say someone cut your head off... you’d, like, what? Grow another?”

“Yes, it’s happened a few times.” he replied honestly. “Healing does take time though. The more damage, the longer it takes. And I appear truly dead for the most part during that process.”

The suspicion glare continued. “Stake through the heart?”

“That’s vampires, dumbass.” the brunette supplied with an eye roll while crossing her arms.

Matt smiled and emitted a quiet chuckled at the exchange. “Yes. Wooden or silver or plastic stakes too. Nothing will kill me permanently”.

“Drowning?”

“No”

“What if you’re like, burned to ash?”

“Nope”.

“Damn.” she finally conceded, her expression changing only slightly in acceptance of what she was being told. “That’s fucking crazy”.

The table fell to silence again.

Suddenly, Irene’s eyes shot wide open and her palms both elevated from the table, fingers splayed. “Woah, woah... wait... ” she continued with her sinking understanding. “So, how old are you?!?”

Angela knitted her brows, tilting her whole head to the left and shooting an exaggerated glance up to the ceiling. She didn’t think she’d ever asked that one. Hadn’t really thought about it.

Matt had to calculate the answer in his head. It was presently 1994. “Coming up on 90.” he finally settled on.

Both women stared at him, wide-eyed and speechless.

Eventually his gentle attempts to change the subject were heeded as the two humans began to feel the effects of the alcohol. They giggled freely as they reminisced about growing up together. They discussed how their lives had changed, undergrad classes, family, moving away from home, etc.

Neither woman could possibly know how deeply Matthew envied them.

But he swallowed his bitter thoughts, laughed genuinely along with them, enjoyed the cold beer (even if it had no relevant effect on him) and relished in the simplicity of normal people with normal lives and happy futures.

*****

It felt like only yesterday to him, but the evening at the bar was a distant memory. Matt still thought about Angela often, and spoke to her on rare occasion too.

He hadn’t seen her in years though. That always got harder as friendships grew lengthier. Even with the people who grasped what he was and understood the concept of immortality. The textbook greeting of, “Wow, you haven’t changed a bit!” became increasingly troubling to most humans as time passed and the statement carried actual weight.

The realization came harder than expected to most that he really _hadn’t_ changed. Not even a bit.

A five year window could pass mostly unnoticed, and a ten year window was rarely a big issue, especially if they saw him regularly. But 15 years? 20? Angela knew Matthew when she was a fiery 25 year old grad student.

She’d since gotten married to a great guy. John, a New York investment guru that complimented her well. Matt had attended their wedding. She’d chatted casually, “You need to find yourself a wife, sir! I can’t believe you’ve been single the entire time I’ve known you!” he’d smiled politely and changed the subject back to her beautiful wedding.

She and John’s two kids were now in middle school.

And... Matt still looked to be in his early thirties, despite having a daughter close to Angela’s age. And despite that the college experience he’d shared alongside her had concluded his third Doctorate’s degree, though still the most recent to date. He’d neglected to ever mention that to her.

College filled lots of time. And time was something he had an abundance of.

He’d also never mentioned the daughter to his friend. Disclosing what he was to people he felt he could trust was one thing. Potentially endangering others associated with him was another thing entirely. Personal matters of Matthew’s history and the people in it were strictly off limits for the vast majority of conversation he had with absolutely anyone.

None of those things were on his mind however as he painted the walls of his newly purchased, fairly basic Los Angeles apartment. The color was ‘Summer Whisper Green’ or something like that.

He liked the smell of paint.

His black tank top and ragged blue jeans bore mostly dried smears of the off-white primary wall color. Each step of his bare feet crinkled the plastic sheeting that covered the dark hardwood floors to protect them from paint droplets.

He surveyed his work, satisfied with the color combination and secured the lid back onto the excess paint. He’d chosen this pad for the balcony, no question. The view of the city was amazing for something in its price range. He didn’t intend to spend much time here and certainly had no plans to entertain anyone else here, so simple and cost effective was the logical choice.

But this concrete balcony with its fancy wrought iron railing was very nice. He’d already picked some large planters for the space and would find tall greenery to fill them within the coming days.

He grabbed a cigarette from the pack on the counter top and made his way out of the sliding glass door. Retrieving from his jean pocket a silver Zippo lighter that was older the the building he currently occupied, he leaned over the railing and lit his cigarette. The smoke blew in a delicate puff from between his barely parted lips. He closed his eyes and took in the sounds of the city buzzing below him. It’d been a while since he’d spent time on the West Coast.


	2. Please just fucking go

Once the work part and the impersonal decorating of the apartment was done, it took no time at all for Matt to become bored shitless.

He should’ve known better than to have spend a dime on an apartment at all.

He spent most of his days wandering the city, and many of his nights in the abandoned and dilapidated structures along its outskirts. The apartment was perfectly comfortable, and of course he still went there every other day at a minimum to shower and change clothes. He had to maintain his plants too. But he couldn’t stare at the walls for long before going stir crazy. He wanted to be near activity and people. He wanted to watch stuff happen, even if just from a distance.

Sure, he could make friends. But he really didn’t want the explanations or expectations that went along with actual friendship. It was too much work.

He currently sat at an outdoor table of a small bistro. The sandwich had been great, and he nursed a still half-filled glass of white wine. A young mother dressed in the latest fashion, typical of the average L.A. resident on this side of town, struggled to corner a rambunctious toddler who was hell-bent on petting a nearby dog. The seemingly sweet-natured Retriever was well behaved but clearly equally hopeful that the child would shower it with affection. The scene kept Matthew smiling while the triumphant toddler giggled in delight as the dog’s cold, wet nose gently prodded at the child’s face.

He thought back to a conversation he’d had with an ex girlfriend many years ago. She’d encouraged him to get a pet. “It would be good for you to have a companion, Matt. Adopt a dog or something so you’ll have something to come home to”. Ironically, the conversation had occurred a couple days after she’d broken up with him.

There went that smile.

Dogs weren’t really his cup of tea, though. He understood who most people loved them but he had his reasons, and they sat firmly within the ‘things we don’t speak of’ category. A cat would’ve been a welcome option, but the fear of Matt taking an “unplanned absence” and the impact that could have on a cat or any other pet made the risk completely unfair to even consider.

So instead of having companions of any true relevance in his life, he tried not to appear creepy as he watched other people with their friends, families and pets. It would have to suffice.

*****  
  


Later the same evening, he donned dramatically more casual attire and perched himself along the steel rafters of a long-abandoned factory. The nearby river was brown and the banks littered, but still a calm enough scene to waste time watching.

It was interesting being the ‘fly on the wall’ sometimes. Random people came and went from these barren buildings more often than you’d think. Sometimes it was teenagers, smoking where they hoped not to be caught. The occasional homeless passer-by. Fairly often, illegal and nefarious actions and plans unfolded under Matt’s gaze. He never interfered. Didn’t care what other people did with their time, quite frankly.

So long as innocent people weren’t endangered, that was.

But as it happens, on this evening, that’s exactly what occurred.

The sunset was just beginning to stretch it’s colorful, still bright expanse across the sky. He was on a ledge up on the second story of the large empty warehouse. Most of the ceiling was gone, half of the exterior metal walls too. The structure little more than a metal framework over the concrete pad. The upper level of the place was just some metal catwalks.

His little perch allowed him to lean one way and be overlooking the back parking and the parallel stream’s little banks and culvert area, or the other way and view the majority of the empty building. There was a driveway that wrapped along the length of the place in a “C” shape and a large parking pad on the back side of the building. A large gravel area dipped well below the edge of the concrete ground level on the back side, where loading docks had once allowed large trucks to be bumper-level with the spaces that used to serve as bay doors.

A dark SUV had arrived and situated itself at the back of the loading dock, where it was successfully hidden from the majority of the rest of the property. Eventually two men emerged and casually walked the area. One appeared to be in his early fifties. His pressed business suit and shiny black shoes were definitely the classiest thing this environment had seen in quite some time.

The other man was much younger and although he carried himself with an authoritative attitude, his demeanor and attire indicated he was likely the subordinate of the two. The older gentleman brought his hands to his hips as he turned to address the younger and when he did so, his jacket was pulled back and the butt of a gun could easily be seen along his waistline. He spoke simply that “He’ll be here momentarily. Let’s head back to the truck”. The subordinate nodded as both men made their way behind the building. As usual, Matt was undetected.

A second vehicle arrived soon enough, an older model sedan, and parked alongside the first. The man who emerged wore somewhat baggy jeans and a stained hoodie.

No small talk was exchanged, and the discussion immediately indicated movement of a supply. They didn’t discuss the specific nature but drugs was the obvious conclusion.

And a lot of drugs, at that. They discussed over the what and where.  
  


  
As fate would have it, a marked LAPD cruiser chose this exact moment to turn onto the drive at the other end of the property. He wasn’t running any lights or sirens, but Matt and the 3 men below him all whipped their heads toward the sound of the crunching gravel as the cruiser made its way to the front of the building.

The 3 men at the rear of the building immediately exchanged hushed, panicked assumptions and accusations. They huddled closely against the wall that provided a complete visual barrier between them, their vehicles, and where the Police car had parked.

They were completely concealed but there was no way for them to leave without giving the cop a clear and lengthy view of them and their vehicles.

The officer who emerged was young, in his late 20s. Around 5’9” in height. He was clean shaven and his appearance was overall well maintained. His hair was a sandy, medium brown and his physique indicated he took the physical needs of his job seriously. He was toned and lithe.

Matt recognized him immediately.

He’d parked near the overgrowth that shielded more than half the property from the main roadway above. He exited his cruiser in a relative hurry and gave his surroundings only a quick glance. He made his way slightly up into the bushes, his back turned to the building. The officer’s intentions became apparent quickly that he simply sought a concealed spot to relieve his bladder.

Matthew let a quiet huff of air out his nose and stiffly shook his head. What were the chances of _THIS_ cop being here right at _THIS_ time. For the thousandth time in his long life, the lupine confirmed his suspicion that fate hated him.

Meanwhile, the younger of the two men who’d first arrived had shimmied his way to the corner of the building where he could observe the cop. The ambient noise and distance allowed him to whisper to his counterparts that the intruding officer was a random occurrence, just there to take a piss. The three fell into tense silence as the cop zipped his fly and re-situated himself, clearly much more relaxed as he stepped back out of the foliage. The other men and their vehicles were completely hidden from where he’d entered and now stood.

Matthew said a silent prayer to anyone listening that the officer would get right back in the car and go. 

As usual, his plea went unheard.

With his thumbs lightly resting along his duty belt in the cliche textbook cop stance, the officer casually strolled his way toward the building.

Matt silently situated himself where he could better observe the movements of each man below him. He grit his teeth, cursing wishes under his breath that the man would turn and leave at any moment. He knew any action he made would draw dangerous reactions from either party. The only hope for this situation was luck.

The radio perched on the front of the officer’s shoulder voiced some low volume chatter that the officer ignored as he made his way lazily into the open slab of the building’s interior. He was still at the far end from the other men who remained successfully concealed.

Their stress levels and impatience grew however the closer the cop came. Both younger men of the three man group withdrew handguns. The one was still at the farthest end of the building where he had moved to observe the officer’s arrival. The eldest man moved his jacket aside to access his own gun, but left it holstered.

Matt’s mind was racing, but no solution offered itself.

_Fuuuck.  
_

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

The officer paused momentarily at the center of the building and let his eyes wander around the structure. Completely oblivious still to the presence of the other 4 men sharing this space with him.... all of whom were holding their breath.

  
_Please just fucking go._   
  


Instead though, he slowly made toward the rear wall and kicked some stray pebbles toward the bay doors. One skitted over the concrete and pinged off the roof of the SUV hiding just beyond the ledge with a metallic ‘clink’. The officer cocked his head and his left eyebrow drew down in curiosity.

And just outside of his field of vision, the man in the hoodie aimed his handgun.

The shot that followed yanked the entire scene into immediately action. The cop’s eyes blew open and he yelped in surprise and pain. He fell backwards onto the concrete, instinctively grabbing his lower right side where the bullet had passed cleanly through him.

It takes the human brain approximately 4 seconds to process a situation that shocked them. If the brain hadn’t already assessed the situation as a dangerous one requiring its full attention, when danger occurs, the brain needs a moment to catch up with what just happened. It’s why people often can’t accurately recall accidents and why the fight/ flight/ freeze response becomes engaged.

It took the officer’s trained reflexes only two seconds to screech into his shoulder-mounted radio that he’d been shot and needed back up. He unholstered his own gun and scrambled on his good side back toward a pillar that would provide some cover against the direction the gunshot had originated. A smear of blood trailed him.

The eldest of the three men made a break for his vehicle while his younger partner scurried from the far corner of the building vantage point he had still occupied. The cop saw his movement and, tracking his sprint along the lengthy exterior wall, he fired a round that barely grazed the young man’s shoulder. It was far from a debilitating injury, but the man’s progress toward his boss and vehicle was halted as he took cover behind a bay door frame.

Meanwhile, within the same few seconds, the dude in the hoodie had made his own way into the warehouse space. He crouched behind the lower framework of a nearby staircase that led up to the catwalks - and Matthew - above him.

The eldest man had started the vehicle and called out from his driver’s seat as he began to maneuver their getaway. “Come on! Just leave him, let’s go!” But his partner’s seemingly more hot headed nature got the better of him. He fired several rounds at the partially hidden officer.

Matt could tell the cop’s initial wound had not been life threatening. He remained in the rafters, determined to stay out of this as much as was earthly possible. He’d hoped the three men would all retreat so that he could as well, knowing that an ambulance and other officers would be perfectly capable of ensuring the injured man’s safety.

But when the younger of the first duo closed half of the distance toward the officer under the cover of his own gunfire, taking pause behind a pillar at a midpoint of the warehouse space, Matt’s lips curled up into an angered sneer.

The cop grit his teeth to the pain as he twisted his body to the left to gauge the distance between himself and the two men who flanked him. The three formed an almost perfect triangle as the nefarious two silently communicated that they’d cover each others advances toward the injured officer.

More shouting from the vehicle, now stationary on level ground at the far end of the building. “Get the fuck over here! It’s not worth it!” But the reply came, “There’s no way this pig mother fucker is taking a shot at me and surviving!” from the younger partner. He clearly hadn’t absorbed his superior’s survival skills.

Sweat from the stress and pain now beaded on the officer’s brow. He took the pause in gunfire to stretch this time to his right; the direction of the younger partner and the angered driver waiting behind him, to determine his next shot placement. Rolling his shoulder to the right caused his chest to come forward and dip out from behind the cover. It was just the opening the other man had been waiting for.

The bullet tore through the cop’s chest, having entered his rib cage below his right shoulder and exited several inches below his heart. This time, he screamed out loudly from the pain.

There went any remaining hope Matt had held to stay uninvolved.

It took him .04 seconds to be literally on top of the guy in the hoodie.

Within one motion the man crumpled to the floor and Matt had his gun .. formerly his gun, anyway... in his own hands. Without a single hesitation, Matt raised the barrel and put a bullet from the .40 Smith and Wesson into the center of the briefly bewildered man’s forehead. The back of his head exploded a flash of bloody brain matter due to the close proximity before he crumpled to the ground. 

The wolf rotated in place and brought the gun level to assign the same fate to the other young man standing now entirely in the open, frozen in confusion about what had just happened. That guy’s almost identical bewildered expression lasted only a half a moment longer before it too was replaced with a round from the .40. He dropped without uttering a word.

The oldest man still sitting in the vehicle was the only one with enough experience and reaction time in his corner to swallow the confusion and slam the gas. Matt peppered the sides of the SUV with bullets but gravel flew from behind the tires as the man successfully sped away.  
  


Imminent threats eliminated, Matthew lowered the gun and turned his attention to the officer now splayed flat on his back, hyperventilating with shock. The radio still perched on his shoulder continued to spew its staticky chatter frequently, but it was quickly becoming background noise. Below the radio on his left pectoral, his name badge displayed “Hayes, B”. Matt tucked the gun behind his own waistband before crouching beside the cop.

That first bullet may not have been particularly dangerous. But the second was unquestionably lethal. The flurry of activity had played out so quickly, Matt ventured it would still be several minutes before help arrived for the man. And even when it did, the likelihood of them stabilizing him until he could be under a surgeon’s hands was very, very slim.

“W-who th-th-the fuck are y-yyou?!” the injured man hissed out in a painful, sharp and broken exhales. He still held his service weapon tightly in his right hand. Impressive, Matt though, that he still had the whereabouts to know not to immediately shoot the newcomer but not disarm himself fully, just in case.

Matt frowned and took a deep breath as he considered his opinions. He exhaled sharply through his nose.

“Your guardian angel, I guess.”

Giving the human no other information, Matt stepped over the man and stood closely by his left side for the best angle. He swiftly unclipped his fairly small but razor sharp pocket knife from inside of his pant’s pocket and unfolded the blade from its guard. The cop’s eyes widened again at the perceived threat and he motioned to bring his right hand and gun within it forward, toward the stranger looming above him. The lupine simply stepped firmly with his left foot onto the man’s right wrist, effectively halting the motion.

As further fear began to embrace the already terrified cop, Matt remained standing and continued his other actions.

His left hand tightly rolled up his right sleeve as the knife stayed steady in his right hand. His eyes never left the man struggling beneath him. The human had attempted to roll his body to allow his free hand to retrieve the gun from his right, which Matthew had quickly negated as he ground down harder on the wrist under his foot. The man’s grip on the gun broke and as his sleeve was successfully rolled up to his bicep, Matt leaned down and slid the gun well outside of the attempts to grasp it.  
  
The desperate officer groaned a defeated sound in fear and pain, continuing to reach toward his gun while trying to slide his body further back and away from the stranger. Matthew dropped fully to his knees closely beside the man’s left side and remaining mindful of the blade’s position, he grabbed the officer’s shirt with both hands to secure him in place.

“I’m not going to fucking hurt you. I do need you to stay still, though” it was somehow both reassuring and a threat.

The cop’s current breaths were wheezing and shallow. The effects of the second bullet beginning to take a serious toll on his body. Dark red blood flowed freely from the exit wound in his lower chest and formed a growing pool around his body. Agony painted his features, tears from the pain alone occasionally made their way down the sides of his face as his eyes darted around them both, desperate for help. He grabbed at the wrists of the man holding his shirt, his left hand slippery against the man’s skin from the blood that had coated it as he’d groped his own injury several times over the last minute to assess the damage. It felt like an eternity had passed.

“Please. Please don’t kill me.” Was all he could plead.

Matthew’s eyes darted quickly over the younger man’s body, but his own expression remained mostly neutral. He unfisted his hands from the shirt before glancing down at the gaping exit wound. Ever mindful of the sharp blade, a couple fingers from each of his hands tore the blood-drenched shirt around the injury to better reveal it’s margins.

Without another word between them, Matt brought the blade to his own right wrist and cut a deep, lengthy gash. Blood poured forth from the wound.

The cop blinked several times in confusion, fresh tears falling along his face as he watched the stranger align and tightly press the rapidly bleeding wrist wound to his own open chest. He tried to voice his confusion, to gather anything on whatever the hell this way happening. But the blood loss, shock and terror of the last few moments left him reeling. His head fell with a soft thud back against the cold concrete as he struggled to draw hissed breaths through his clenched teeth.

Several seconds passed like this before Matthew finally spoke.

“You’re going to feel something akin to being high momentarily. Your body will relax and your limbs will feel heavy, but the pain will feel much further away and breathing will come far more easily.”

The cop could merely whimper a garbled “w-w-mm-m” in reply. He clenched his eyes tightly. Breathing was getting so hard. It took several seconds to really hear what he’d just been told, but the words meant little to him. He still felt every bit of the pain.

But then, a few disbelieving breaths came to him and “w... o-oh h-o-oly shit!” he whispered in choppy breaths up to the rafters. His left hand sluggishly sought out the wound to press the other man’s wrist as tightly as possible to it. This... this... felt like nothing he’d ever come close to experiencing.

He’d experimented with some different stuff at college parties and such when he was a dumb kid. Nothing that ever gripped him, it had just been trying this or that the blend in or impress someone. But sure as hell none of it had felt like this! His grip on the man’s lower arm clung tightly in an attempt to ensure the wrist could never be removed. This would be his life now, this stranger and walking life-line attached to him. He could adapt.

Matthew gave a knowing half smile down to the man. He brought his left hand up to the space where of the cop’s lower neck met his upper shoulder. He spoke softly, “You’re fine. You’re gonna be just fine. Don’t worry.” as he barely ran his thumb along the stubble of the man’s lower jawline.

Another minute or so passed before the officer could voice a weak “What are you doing to me?”. As if it was the only explanation needed, the lupine responded simply “I’m saving your life.”  
  


“What’s your name?” The Officer asked.

  
“Doesn’t matter.”  
  


“But... how? And ...w-why are you doing this?”

  
“Also doesn’t matter. You’d be dead already if I wasn’t.”

Matthew had started to sway on his knees somewhat though. Feeling lightheaded, he removed his left hand from the man’s face and placed it flat on the concrete to steady himself.

“This isn’t easy for me, especially when you’re so badly injured. But the physical toll is nothing compared to the risk of discovery. It’s my turn to beg you now. And I plead, with everything I have, that you please tell absolutely no one about the specifics of this.” His brows now knitted with worry, blue eyes boring into the soul of the man laying flat on the ground. “Tell them no one was here and you were just lucky, I’ll give you his gun. Tell them someone shot them, held pressure on the wound and then ran. I don’t really care what you say as long as it isn’t the truth about this part. Please.”

As if to highlight the gravity of his plea, the wail of sirens came into distant earshot.

“Please.” The kneeling man repeated, clearly wanting acknowledgement to his request.

“Yeah. Yes, sure.” he finally was able to voice.

As the sirens hurried closer the wolf held a last long and silent glance with the man. His face was still knit with worry and he swallowed heavily before moving quickly to his feet. The human unconsciously attempted to maintain his grasp on the other man’s arm but the connection was easily broken as he stood upright. He retrieved the gun from behind his waistband and using the hem of his own jacket, wiped his prints from its handle. He carefully set it down near the cop.

Matt threw a glance over his right shoulder toward the property’s entrance and took off at a sprint in the opposite direction. It wasn’t graceful and he stumbled somewhat but he was well concealed within the tree line and rapidly gaining distance before more cruisers and an ambulance started down the drive.

The officer was still in critical condition. A surgery team would still be needed ASAP to stop the blood loss and repair the extensive damage. But Matthew knew he would be fine.

And with that reassurance, he staggered his way through the narrow woods as he removed his jacket and tore the sleeve off to wrap tightly around his wrist. He draped the rest of the jacket over his arm to appear as though he simply didn’t need the warmth and hoped the growing darkness of the evening would effectively conceal the dark blood that coated the knees of his black pants. 


	3. The Girl

_“This is LA Times news, coming to you from the 400 block of Scranton Avenue where it appears a shootout occurred between several individuals wanted for drug trafficking charges and at least one officer of the LAPD. We don’t have all the details yet as to whether this was a planned sting but we do know multiple casualties have occurred. We will be updating your regularly as more about this incident is known.”_

Over the next few days, the news covered the shootout repeatedly. The officer involved, Brian Hayes, had miraculously survived but presently remained in the ICU following multiple surgeries. It became known that the confrontation hadn’t been intentional, but among the casualties were a small time drug and weapons trafficker, Tony White, and an Oscar Salinger. The latter was the son of a notoriously powerful and elusive drug kingpin, Gregory Salinger.

“Fuck. That’ll be a problem.” Matt spoke out loud to the TV in his apartment. Not even a faint line remained on his wrist to give away the deep cut it recently received.

A third man had fled the shoot-out, it was reported. He was believed to be a close associate of Gregory’s though his identity had yet to be confirmed.

He snickered and regarded the news station again, “Salinger will find him long before the LAPD does. If he hasn’t already. Save the sketch artist the trouble, that dude’s already dead either way.” Morals and justifications aside, no wrath could compare to that of a parent who’s child had been intentionally killed. And Matthew knew Salinger’s wrath would be savage. He’d keep a close eye on this.

But in the meantime, he clicked the TV off and stretched upwards past the back of his sectional. His balcony and a cigarette called to him.

Much to his relief, the news had mentioned no other additional parties as having been at the incident.

*****

A mostly peaceful month had passed. Peaceful for LA, anyway.

The shooting had become old news. Little more had developed. Officer Hayes had been released from the hospital. Desk duty for another few weeks, no doubt. 

The body of a Dominic Soletto had been found in conjunction with the case, fitting the description the man Hayes had seen fleeing the scene of the shootout. It was “unknown whether his hanging had been a suicide or connected to the recent death of Oscar Salinger.” Matt had rolled his eyes at the reporter’s statement when he watched the latest news coverage.

When he heard through the grapevine however that Corvin Gallagher had been spotted in LA, that was a matter he took very seriously.

The police would have had no clue who Corvin was even if he strode through the precinct and handed them his ID. But Matthew and the other lupine needed no introduction to one another.

The olive-skinned man of lean physique was an inch or so taller and roughly 30 years Matthew’s senior, though they appeared around the same age. His permanently perfect black hair and well manicured, tight beard and goatee was always accompanied with the latest fashion and an air of arrogance. Most people would describe the man as suave, sharp or refined. Matt thought ‘prissy’ was a better assessment.

But under no circumstances did he believe the man to be harmless. Corvin was ruthless. A highly questionable moral compass and his unyielding determination alone made him a threat to anyone he targeted. And money could convince him to paint a target on just about anyone’s back. 

Money drove the man, and Matthew had a strong suspicion as to who’s money had driven him to L.A.

*****

The girl was 11 years old. Her blonde hair was shoulder length and styled cutely, hazel eyes shone brightly of intelligence and kindness.  
Usually, anyway. Currently they were terrified and filled with tears.

She knew none of the men who surrounded her, but clung tightly to the shirt of the one who had introduced himself with “Samantha? My name is Matthew. I don’t have time to explain but I need you to trust me. We have to run. Now”

She had been almost half way into walking the 2 and a half blocks home after her middle school bus had dropped her off. The neighborhood was the cozy, manicured little laws and white picket fences type of area. 

The strange man had skidded to a halt close to the sidewalk in a classic white Ford Mustang, stopping right in front of her to block her from crossing the street she had just reached.

Her father was a cop, so she was no stranger to understanding when things should alarm her and how to get away from them. To the best of her 11 year old capability anyway. If the man had gotten out of the car and charged her, she likely would’ve run to the nearest house, screaming for help. She was fast too, she could’ve made it.

But he’d leaned across the vehicle, opening the door to her and pleaded for her to get in.

In the same moment, a dark van that had been parked parallel to the street she was walking along - she would have passed right beside it halfway up the next block - peeled out from the cars it was parked behind and roared toward them. She froze momentarily as the van’s tires squealed to closed the distance. Her big eyes darted from the van to the stranger within the white car a few times as he urged a “Come on! Please!” and she leapt her butt onto the seat of the Mustang. The mysterious driver gunned the loud engine, tires chirping for grip as he barely pulled out in front of the van before she could even close the car’s door.

“Thank you,” he started. “I know you have no idea who I am but I promise you, I’m only here to help you.” He followed shortly with “Seatbelt, now please”. She was so shaken by what was currently happening it took her a moment to comply. She stared from the blur of the road to him then to her unrestrained lap before snapping out of it and grabbing the belt to fasten it. She noticed he wasn’t wearing one himself but was still too stunned to call him on the hypocrisy.

He continued soaring down the roads, twisting and turning in an effort to loose the van following them. His face remained calm though, like a stunt driver who’d gone through the same motions countless times. Careful, and calculated but un-phased.

She eyed around the car and her breath hitched momentarily when she realized the driver had a gun to his left, wedged between himself and the door. Her dad has familiarized her with guns and she knew the one here now to be an AR15. She gathered a few breaths to calm herself. 

“Do you know my dad?” she asked.

“We’ve met briefly but I don’t know him, no. Some really bad men want to hurt him by hurting you though. And I’m here to make sure that doesn’t happen”.

She stayed silent for a moment and struggled with what her next step or words should be.

He tracked a path further away from town, flying down the roadways while she clung so tightly to the door and her backpack that her knuckles were white. They started creating distance between them and the pursuing vehicle. The girl was clenching her jaw so tightly it started to hurt. 

“Should I call my dad?”

“Not yet. More people involved in this chase right now is just more people to get in the way or get hurt.”

Samantha questioned what she’d been told but resolved to believe the man for now. Her phone was in her backpack, turned off as per school and school bus rules. The speed they were traveling and the situation continued to sink into her and her body started to tremble softly, though she tried to keep herself in check. She was a tough kid. He gave her a sympathetic glance and spoke softly “I’m going to keep you safe. I promise you.” A flash of a stiff, joyless smile in reply was all she could muster.

The van was thankfully out of sight but her driver continued his hasty path. They had been driving for 15 minutes or so now and made it into an area that was more businesses than houses. Given the speed, they had covered quite a bit of ground.

Samantha started to relax somewhat and took her phone out of her bag to have it turned on and ready for whenever he told her she should use it. The man opened his mouth the say something to her but never got the words out.

A different and larger cargo type van swung dramatically around the corner ahead of them and barreled straight toward them from the wrong way of the one-way street. Matthew slammed the brakes as the van broad-sides the Mustang, sending it half way up the sidewalk in front of a multi-story office building.

In one fluid motion, he unsnapped her seatbelt, grabbed her around the waist and heaved her entire body with him as he leapt out the driver’s side door. Her backpack and cell phone slid straight through her fingers and she dropped both still within the car. Paying no concern to how ridiculous she must’ve felt and appeared, he carried her hooked under his right arm like a large rag doll. He’d grabbed the gun with his left hand as they’d exited the vehicle.

He ran like that to the entrance of the office building and holding his gun against his chest using his chin, he yanked firmly at the door. No luck, it was locked tight. Just their luck.

On a rushed closer inspection it appeared to be vacant. A ‘For Lease’ sign on the door had been previous unnoticed.

“Fuck.” he growled.

Re-situating the gun into his left hand, he took several steps backward and charged the door, letting his left shoulder crash into and quickly through it. The impact and broken doorway caused him to trip through the frame and they both toppled with a slide into the building. Because of how he’d been holding her, she landed flat on her back with a pained ghasp.

Giving her no time to collect herself, Matthew yanked her up by the arm and flung them both over and behind a low desk meant to serve as a reception point for the building. 

Gunshots immediately followed them as the men who’d been in the cargo van had caught up to them in the doorway.

With a hand firmly on her upper arm, he urged her to stay low but fast and half dragged her as she scrambled to keep up. He paused briefly to return some shots in the direction of the men hot on their heels. They navigated their way past some kiosks and hallways as bullets frequently pelted the walls around them.

They’d eventually found a corridor that allowed them to quickly cover some ground toward the rear of the building. The voices of the pursuing men let them know they had gained some distance between them and Matthew quietly opened a freshly painted door that led to the stairways and upper floors. 

He scooped the girl back up without warning and lurched up the steps, two at a time, until they’d reached the fourth floor. Again being careful to remain silent, he opened the door and ran, taking turns down random hallways until he reached some office rooms with solid doors. He chose one at random and finally placed the girl’s feet onto the floor. The room held only a couple of chairs and a large desk. It wasn’t until that moment that she’d realized tears here streaming down her face as her shoulders quaked. And that he was bleeding.

“Y-you’ve been shot!” she whisper-shouted at him as a small steam of blood seeped from his side.

“Shhhh. Yeah. I’ll be fine.” he responded as he semi-gently shoved her toward a closet door he’d opened. “Don’t worry about me. I know you’re scared and I’m so sorry. But I need you to sit down in here and stay completely silent, ok?” She nodded with shaky breath as she held her own arms around herself.

After guiding her back into the closet fully, he went down to one knee in front of her and gently gripped both of her shoulders in his hands. “Do not come out this door until you hear me or your father say it’s ok. No matter who or what else you hear, you do NOT come out of here. Do you understand me?”. She took a shaky inhale as her teary eyes met his stressed but dry ones. “Y-yes s-s-sir.”

And with a nod, he stood and closed the door between them. She heard what she assumed to be the large desk sliding between the entrance to the room and the closet door, though not up against the closet as though to block it shut. The sound his footsteps made as he left the room were quiet as he closed the office door behind him.

Then for a while, there was nothing.  
The silence was the worst. Her mind raced with what could be happening beyond the small, dark room she occupied.

When the gunfire began, it was sudden and unrelenting. She jumped, a startled yelp escaping. The booming sounded like it would tear the building apart as it erupted from the floors beneath her. She cried in earnest as she rocked herself back and forth in the closet. She felt so useless and so very scared.

She could tell by the gunfire and frequent shouting that the men were moving around to different places in the building. Still within the lower levels of the place. Shots would be traded back and forth, there would be brief pauses of silence, and then more shots would thunder again. She held her breath each time the place fell quiet, straining to hear anything helpful.

Why hadn’t she called her dad as soon as she’d thought to? She just wanted her mom and her bedroom. What if these men killed Matthew? What would they do to her? Would she see her parents again? The crying was giving her a headache, but the tears continued to fall as these thoughts swam around in her head. 

It felt like hours passed as the shots moved around the empty space.

She jumped when she heard what she could tell was a door on this same floor slam open. She held her breath, straining to hear Matthew or her dad call out to her. Praying to hear those things.

But there was nothing.

And then just a few more shots were exchanged, surely right around the corner from where she hid. She moaned a terrified whimper.

The voice she soon heard was definitely not her dad or Matthew.

“God _damn_ , man...” an airy chuckle from someone who sounded like they were breathing hard. “If you ever want a job, dude, just say the word.” ... More humorless laughter and then some frustration entered the tone... “You know how hard it was to find all these guys?”

Finally Matthew’s voice replied like music to her ears. He was somewhat closer to her than the other man was, a ways apart from the first voice.

“Go fuck yourself, Corvin.”

There was a pause as both men seemed to be trying to catch their breath.

A single huffed laugh. “Yeahhh.....” he let out in a long sigh. “I hate to point out the obvious here my friend but you’re the one that’s presently fucked.” He paused but Matthew remained silent so he continued “You’re dead on your feet. You’re out of ammo. And you know I’ll find the girl.”

New terror struck her as she realized what she’d just heard.

Matthew finally replied, he sounded weak and injured but his voice still cocky, daring the other man. “I don’t need the gun to kill you.”

A more genuine laugh came from the more distant voice this time. “Maybe. Maybe so.” He sighed out a long whine, “But you’re all the way over there and I have plenty of ammo for my gun. You couldn’t reach me before I could shoot you.” He took a few loud breaths and concluded “And I don’t need to shoot you anyway. All I need to do is wait and you’ll die on your own soon enough.”

Silence fell between them all for a while. She thought she could hear wheezing breaths, and then definitely heard what sounded to be painful, wet coughs from the closer man.

Some sluggish rustling indicated someone was shifting. Samantha wanted to scream with the fear of not knowing what was happening.

Mathew’s voice eventually replied. He sounded bad. He was hesitating to speak, as though the action of speech and the words themselves both hurt him. “I’ll... _fuck_... I’ll show you where she is. And you’ll take her to her father. You won’t hurt a hair on that kid’s head... or that of anyone else in her family.”

A single incredulous huff of laughter, “Sorry, but I think the blood loss is getting t...” before he was interrupted as Matt continued.

“And I’ll be indebted to you.”

Silence.

“ _Woooooooahhh_.” the man drew out for dramatic effect. “Are you serious? Have you ever been indebted to anyone? Like ever?”

“Doesn’t matter. Do we have a deal or not?” He followed immediately with “... because if not, I’m going to come over there and kill you with your own gun.”

“Oh fuck yes, we have a deal! I couldn’t buy that deal with all the money in the world!”

The man seemed genuinely excited by the agreement. The girl was completely confused. The tears had mostly stopped though, thanks to her having trained all of her focus on the conversation between the two men. It suddenly occurred to her that she’d heard no other people or sounds. There had been a few men initially, right?

Matt muttered a weak “Shut up and give me a minute.” 

With some shuffling, she finally heard the office door open. Mathew called her name in a pained whimper from just outside the closet and she leapt up to open the door. He slammed his hand against it though to barricade it closed.

“M-Matthew?” the confusion clear in her voice.

“Yeah kiddo, look” ... he sounded bad. Really bad. He was wheezing the words in short bursts. “... I need you to keep trusting me, ok? ... I’m going to go. And This man here.. Corvin... he’s going to ... take you home. To your parents. And... that’ll be it. You’ll all... you’ll all be ... ok... and this... this will be over.”

She’d never wanted anything in her life more than for ‘this’ to be over.

“Can I come out now?”

“Not just yet... give me a second...” more wheezing. “Give me a minute to... to go... ok? And then ... come on ... out, and... Corvin here will ... take.. care.... of you.”

“But where are you going?”

“Just... go... with.... Cor....v....” His voice had become nothing more than a whisper.

She heard him shift away from the closet door and then was fairly sure she heard him fall against a nearby wall. Soon, what sounded like his gun hit the ground for sure. More shuffling, but nothing violent. Eventually after several moments of quiet, she opened the closet door to peek outside.

She saw the other man, Corvin she presumed, standing in the office doorway with his back mostly to the room she was in. He glanced over his shoulder at her when he saw the movement of the door.

He was hurt, clearly he’d been shot multiple times. But he seemed surprisingly fine for a man so covered in blood. And then as she stepped out of the closet and studied the room, she realized just how much blood existed there. A pool of droplets covered the floor in front of the closet, handprints smeared the walls and door. Was this all from Matthew? Surely not. It looked like something out of the couple horror movies she’d watched without her parents knowing. Her eyes were huge with terror as she stared at it all.

The other man walked to her side and moved to touch her shoulder. She recoiled and stared up at him distrustingly. He held his hands up, palms facing her at waist height to indicate he meant her no threat.

“He’ll be fine, don’t worry. But we need to go now.” He said, giving her no time to consider any other option. He gently but firmly draped his arm around her shoulder and led her out of the room. She avoided touching the man, leaning away from him as much as she could without escaping his grasp.

He led her along a different route than they’d entered. At a couple of points, he placed his other hand over her eyes. Part of her hated this stranger to be treating her like a child. But the other part acquiesced to his efforts, understanding that if the blood trails that decorated the floor and smears on the wall didn’t bother him, maybe she really didn’t want to see whatever he was shielding from her vision. The building was completely silent, other than their own footsteps but she heard sirens outside, rapidly closing on the building. She kept wondering where Matthew could have gone. How much of this blood was his?

They made their way out a back alley door entrance, red and blue lights swarmed the front half of the building. They turned a corner away from the office as a couple Police cruisers circled to the back of the building where they had just been. A two second delay and they’d have walked right into a police cruiser. Somehow the two went undetected though. A block up, a car Corvin seemed to have been expecting paused in the road beside them. He ushered her into the back seat before sitting beside her, reciting her address to the driver. They were off without another word.

*****

She ran up the short sidewalk to her front door before flinging it open, practically straight into the arms of her mother. The woman looked like she had been weeping and she immediately wailed out her daughter’s name in elated disbelief. She fell to her knees and sobbed the name again and again as she held the girl so tightly she thought she may break her.

A man’s voice from somewhere across the house called out loudly at the alarm “Katelyn? What is i...”

Brian came sprinting into the room at his wife, Katelyn’s, cries and upon seeing Samantha there in the woman’s arms, he shrieked her name as well, embracing them both as one big unit.

They huddled in a mess of tears and relief in the middle of the living room.

Brian and Katelyn had no real understanding about where their daughter had been. A neighbor had claimed to have seen her jump into a white car with a stranger as a van had tried to ram the car. 911 calls had come from several locations to report the vehicles speeding through the area.

Patrol cars had tried to pursue the path the calls indicated. Carefully thought, not wanting to cause a wreck that could injure a fellow officer’s daughter. More calls about the wreck in front of the office complex involving a van and a vehicle that matched the one Samantha had been seen jumping into. A van matching the description of the one that had been spotted pursuing the car as well as an additional cargo van were also parked, abandoned near the office building. The three vans and car still sat haphazardly in the street.

Responding officers had heard the cacophony of gunfire and awaited a SWAT team to respond. Perimeters had been set up and plans had been hashed as the gunfire had continued.

Brian had been seething in frustration when his Captain had adamantly ordered that he stay home. Enough facts simply weren’t known. With many threats from his superior, he admitted that his impulsive and emotionally compromised reactions could lead him into a trap or his daughter into a worse situation than whatever she was currently in.

They’d been forced to very reluctantly wait.

And having his daughter in his arms was the most incredible thing he’d ever felt.

When Brian looked up to the stranger in the doorway, the words “what ha....” died in his throat when he realized it wasn’t a fellow Police Officer standing there. The tall man maintained a blank expression and waited to see if the girl’s father would finish his sentence. When confusion seemed to still own his tongue, the stranger spoke instead.

“You’ll find him on the fourth floor.” he stated as he unclasped his hands to nonchalantly examine his torn and bloody suit top. Seemingly more annoyed with the damage to the fabric than to his body beneath it. “He paid a hefty price for your family’s safety. I don’t know what you’ve done to earn the loyalty of that man, but it’s something I hope you appreciate.” He looked back up from his suit toward the family.

And then after a brief pause as he turned to head back down the sidewalk “I can’t know what actions my ... former... client will take now. But you’ll receive no more threat from me.” He nodded toward the huddled family and walked away before they’d had the chance to form what were sure to be countless questions.

“Wha.... Who the fuck was that?!”

“Bad word, daddy”


	4. “That’s him.”

Brian called dispatch right away, alerting them that Samantha was home safe thanks (maybe?) to someone who he’d gathered virtually no information about. 

He only knew his daughter had called the man “Corvin” and that a guy with a Mustang and an assault rifle she called “Matthew” had supposedly saved her life in some office building. From a bunch of men, including (maybe) the one who’d delivered her home.

His head was spinning.

Only moments later, a call from one of his friends on the department came.

“Brian, you’ve gotta see this. Get to South Mouldon St., like right now.”

He was hesitant to leave his daughter. She clung to her mom, still obviously very shaken by the afternoon. He needed answers though, the cop in him was desperate for them. He made sure Samantha and Katelyn were settled before rushing to office building. 

  
The scene that greeted him there was unlike anything he’d witnessed before. And he’d been a cop in LA since a couple days after his 18th birthday. The office complex was littered with bullets, blood and bodies. He was told four floors were full of the chaos.

“What the holy fuck happened here?!” he exclaimed to the friend who led him into the place. Doug Brown, the same cop that had called him to see this. They stood just inside the broken front doorway that entered the building.

“This is apparently what your daughter walked out of.” He held his eyebrows high in amazement as he gestured around, “We don’t really know what else. Witnesses saw the collision out front and then said more vehicles of armed men arrived and ran into here. It was a helluva party, apparently.”

Doug toed a dead man’s helmeted head upright, displaying a gaping hole where he left eye used to reside. “It’s all speculation. There’s no way this could’ve really had anything to do with Samantha,” he looked from the dead man up to his friend, concern on his face, “...right??”

Brian shook his head more in disbelief than as an answer. “I mean... I don’t.... “ they continued to walk the halls as the entire forensics team took photos, notes and evidence. “The dude that dropped her off said something about the fourth floor... have you been up there yet?”

“Nope. The responding units did a quick sweep, but saw no signs of life and have barely begun to detail the place.”

He frowned as he tipped his head toward the elevator. He had no idea what or who the man had been referring to or what to expect. “Let’s go check it out.”

Far less blood and no obvious bodies greeted them when the elevator doors opened to the fourth floor. Bullet holes still peppered the walls though, and bloody trails wove paths down some of the hallways.

The two cops made their way around the floor while being careful to not disturb any potential forensic evidence.

More blood, a lot more blood adorned the floor and wall outside of a room where someone had clearly sat for a while. They searched the nearby offices and found most untouched. One though displayed bloody handprint smears along the doorframe. Someone had entered that one.

The interior of the room showed the same. A desk had been shoved to the middle of it. Bloody smears and droplets where it appeared someone had stood a while, bleeding heavily, outside of the small open closet.

Samantha had mentioned having been told to hide in a closet.

Brian’s throat closed up a bit as the emotions crashed into him. The realization of what had occurred here. He saw crime scenes often. The blood and gore didn’t bother him.

The stories behind them made the job incredibly hard to stomach sometimes. But still, they were other people’s stores. Or nightmares.

But not this one. This had been his daughter. His sweet baby girl had hidden for her life in this closet. Men she didn’t know had surrounded her. She could so easily have been found dead in this tiny space, or anywhere else for that matter. He clenched his jaw as his mind shuffled through anger, fear and joy, not knowing which to grant more space to.

He wasn’t a guy who cried. He felt the need to remind himself of that as he stared at the closet and the blood that surrounded it.

But no one was in the room now. Not his daughter or anyone else. He took a deep breath and they made their way back out. The room immediately across the hall also bore some bloody smudges on the door.

And that one held a body.

“That’s him.” Brian froze, rigid. He stared wide-eyed, unable to move his feet an inch. “Doug that’s _him_ , that’s the guy!”

“Who?”

“The guy! The guy from the warehouse! The one who shot those two guys to save my ass!! 

Doug finally understood his friend‘s amazement, “Holy shit, seriously?!”

“Yeah! Not a doubt in my mind!” His temporary physical paralysis finally broke and he moved closer to the dead body on the carpet. He was half-perched against a wall, leaning on his left shoulder. His chin rested against his chest.

He twisted his face in disgust, trying to make sense of the scene. “What, did they use the poor bastard as target practice?”

He was beyond fucked up, indeed. There was no way he’d sustained all this damage before dying.

“No bullet holes behind him. Someone must have shot him a few more times for good measure and then moved him here after he died.” Brian assumed out loud.

Doug nodded in agreement as the eyes of both men swept over the area. Doug let out an impressed whistle when he noticed the rifle beside the man. “Damn. That’s no cheap piece there. Helluva weapon.” Brian hadn’t yet really noticed the gun but agreed when he briefly studied it. “Yeah no kidding...” he trailed off.

What the hell was going on here? Clearly this was who this Corvin guy had been referring to. His words kept playing in Brian’s head. ‘He paid a hefty price for your family’s safety.’ the price of his life, surely. But why? What did he have to do with Brian or his family, and why would his death keep the family safe?

The dead man offered no feedback to his thoughts however. Brian eventually shrugged. “I don’t know, dude. None of this makes sense.”

“We may just have to let forensics and time do it’s job to figure this out, man.” his friend replied.

“Guess you’re right. Let’s get the hell outta here.” They turned to head for the door, but Brian took another long moment to study the scene. This guy had appeared out of nowhere and saved his life a month ago. He didn’t know how it’d worked, but no doubt existed in his mind that he’d be dead if this man hadn’t intervened. And now likely the same could be said of his daughter.

The possibility that he may never have answers to these questions ate at the back of his mind. Of the two men he knew would know the facts, one he’d let walk away without having asked a single question. The other was dead as a door nail.

*****

  
  
With the meager information they did have, everyone had deduced that Gregory Salinger had played a large role in the mess. It was also assumed Corvin had been hired by Salinger to orchestrate the job: They’d target Samantha in retaliation for the death of his own son.

The Hayes family was put into an emergency safe house the same evening of the kidnapping. Or rescue? No one was quite sure about that one. Likewise, no one had figured out yet exactly who had been shooting at who. Obviously Corvin and his daughter had walked away. Maybe others had too. The safe house would help lower the risk of further attempts to harm the family.

Brian went back into the office the following morning to again relayed absolutely everything to the officers investigating his case. The mystery dude, now identified as Matthew, had saved the family’s ass twice. Once when he shot Brian’s attackers and then helped hold steady pressure on his wounds until frightened away by the approaching cruisers. And then yesterday had seemingly known his daughter was in danger and acted to protect her during a shoot out.

Samantha had cried when she was told told they’d found him dead. She’d kept asking about him so despite having only been near the man for an hour tops, it wasn’t hard to assume she would be sad to know he was dead.

Her mom had knocked on her door and both parents went in to talk to her. Her mom hugged her and kissed her hair when her father broke the news. She wasn’t stupid, she’d told them his voice had made him sound very weak and in pain. So it hadn’t really surprised her when her dad told her he was dead, but she still quietly stared at the floor for a minute before a few tears fell and she’d whispered “But I didn’t get to tell him thank you.” before rubbing the wetness from her eyes.

Most of the other dead men, 14 of them to be specific, had been identified. Mercenaries from various parts of the whole damn globe. Almost all had felony equivalent records and warrants out at their respective residing countries. Forensics had concluded that the only blood, fingerprint and other DNA evidence at the scene belonged to those 14 men, Matthew, Samantha and one other person, presumably Corvin. A huge bonus of the building having been vacant had made that job easier. But it also indicated no one else had been present in the fight. Was Matthew just another man hired by Corvin for the job and then had a change of heart?

Samantha insisted that was not the case. She reminded them constantly that Corvin had propositioned the other man for a job and then been very excited to have him owe a debt to him. But he’d also known Matthew was dying and seemed to have either been the cause of his death or to have at least contributed to it. So what good was an “IOU” from a dead guy? The hiring of all those men, the organization of all of this... this charade had been an expensive endeavor.

Brian knew his daughter was smart, but could the recollection of a scared 11 year old really be factual? That after all the work and planning and shooting and death... whatever Matthew agreed to give Corvin, despite his death, was worth exchanging the payload he practically held in his grasp and handing it right back? He sat across from the recording device and investigation team in one of the precinct’s interview rooms. He brought both hands flat to his face and rubbed roughly up and down the length of it. God he needed a shower. And to sleep for a week.


	5. We just call ‘em wolves

Brian wasn’t part of his family’s investigation, of course. But he read through the case files and evidence as they came in and his friends who were in various positions of the case kept him in the loop as soon as things came up.

Officer Sandy Yu was one of his most favorite people. She was chipper and sassy and capable of being a helluva a force to contend with. A good cop and a good friend. She bounced across the precinct toward him, a few days after the kidnapping/ shooting incident.

“Have you talked to Marty yet?”

Brian knew the grizzly coroner, Marty. He’d been at the job for more than 25 years. But he certainly didn’t speak to him regularly. “No, why?”

Her face showed she was practically bursting to break some exciting news. Apparently she wouldn’t give it away easily though. With a big grin she said “Call him. Put him on speaker. You gotta hear this and I want to see your face when you do.” She dealt the request with a big grin, still bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet.

Brian pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Just fucking tell me what it is.”

“Nope, call the man.” She popped the “p” sound with her lips as she spoke.

He sighed and made sure to convey his annoyance with her, but dug his phone out of the jacket he’d draped over the back of his chair. There was a missed call from Marty. He shot a glare and a half frown at the beaming Sandy and hit the number to return the call.

“Hey Marty. Sorry I missed your call. What’s up?”

“Uh, yeah, hey Hayes.” he was obviously mid paperwork and sheets of paper could be heard rustling in the background. “Your dude is a wolf.”

“A what?”

“Sorry, a Lupine. Dumb name. We just call ‘em wolves.”

“I’m tired, Marty. I don’t mean to be a dick but can we cut to the point? Are we talking about this Matthew guy? You mean like a gang affiliation or something?”

This earned a laugh from Sandy and the coroner. He continued “No, no. Like an actual lupine. Surely you’re familiar with them?”

“Uhh, yeah, but....Are you serous? Is that even _really_ a real thing?” He started to assume they were pranking him.

“Yes, and definitely. Like, you know what this means, right? He’s not human.”

He sighed, eyes closed in frustration. “I mean, I’ve heard of them but don’t know much I guess. What does it mean to the case?”

“Lots of things. But most importantly, it’ll mean you get to question him. Eventually. It’ll be weeks, I’d suspect.” More paperwork rustled in the background. “Hey I gotta go. Just let me know what y’all want me to do with him.” He hung up.

Sandy held an ear to ear grin. “Talk about some damn luck, huh?! What are the chances!”

He’d heard things about these wolves, but it was hard to separate fact from fiction. Some people healed from way worse injuries, or had special abilities or something. Seemed they were few and far between and likely bullshit anyway, so he hadn’t really paid much attention. Standing in front of Sandy now, he deduced that they believed this guy was going to come back from the dead.

“Y’all have officially lost your minds if you think there’s any way in hell, any species, no matter what you call them, is coming back from that shit.” The man had looked like roadkill.

“I’ve got a friend down in Texas who knows one. She dated him for a while, actually. I know they’re rare and all, but they’re a real thing.”

Tired of the conversation, he thought they were both nuts. “Whatever Yu say, Yu!” Enunciating the words identically was his go-to reply to irritate the woman. She’d heard the jab since she was a kid. She scowled and reached to hit him every single time, usually hard enough to hurt, but not hard enough that he hesitated to use the words when he wanted to rib her.

After dodging her swings while using his desk to keep her out of the danger-zone, they caught some glares from other officers around the department’s office space before he was sure she’d cooled down enough to let back within arm’s reach. “Let’s get lunch. I’m starving.” he offered. “I heard there’s a new food truck out there today.”

He was wrong. She punched him in the shoulder even harder than usual.

He rubbed the sore spot and drew a hiss of air through his teeth as she picked up her light jacket and headed toward the door. “Come on, dipshit.” was how she accepted the lunch invitation.

*****

A huge, unexpected relief came with a phone call eight days later.

A department just outside of Tucson had found a body. They’d been dead for a week or so before being found, and their body had been outside. Some hikers saw a car parked unusually and upon investigating it more closely, had found the corpse nearby. A week outside in Arizona was harsh. So identifying it wasn’t easy, and the department wanted to be 1000% sure of their suspicions before confirming and releasing the man’s name.

Gregory Salinger.

Captain Perry called Brian and several others into a meeting about it. He was standing with his arms crossed, leaning half-seated on his desk. The guy was a tough old dude. He’d seen some shit and his position was hard earned within the department.

“We don’t know cause of death yet,” he started, “but it’s safe to say we can clear anyone here’s involvement.” Such things had to be considered for official purposes. “It also means Hayes and his family can be considered safe from further retaliation.”

A couple of the other officers in the meeting let dramatic, happy sighs out at the good news. Some smiled in his direction.

“I still want routine patrols keeping an eye on your place, Hayes, but this hopefully means y’all can head back to your home and rest more easily.”

“Yes, sir.” he agreed.

The Captain went on with the few things known about the discovery of the man’s body. It had been approximately eight days since the man had died. Meaning the death happened within 24 hours of the shootout.

Brian shifted in his seat. “What are the chances the Corvin guy did this?” he blurted our, completely interrupting the man who had been speaking.

“We have no idea at this time. There’s a chance your case could be related. Maybe he couldn’t stomach the failure of targeting Samantha after losing his son and killed himself. But we don’t know. They haven’t found any concrete evidence to link the cases.”

He was really tired of not having answers. But Salinger’s death was about the best news he could’ve asked for, so he shrugged it off along with the many days worth of stress he had been shouldering.

“Now, the next matter at hand I’m sure you’ve all heard about by now is the wolf.” the gruff Captain said with a sigh. “He’s still in a refrigerator space at the Coroner’s office. To my understanding, there’s no set timeframe we can expect him to heal within, but we can hope to gain answers from him whenever he wakes back up. Maybe even close this case.”

Doug Brown was also in the meeting and spoke up “We’re positive this guy is what Marty says? That he’s going to wake up?”

“Yup. Not a doubt. He showed me the body and I agree with his assessment. We’ll let him heal most of the way there with Marty and then we’ll put him in a private holding cell here until he’s completely awake.” He cleared his throat and added “We know nothing about this man and will handle him under the assumption that he’s very dangerous.”

Brian still wasn’t convinced, but pushed those thoughts to the side. “After we get our answers from him though. Then what?”

The superior played his grip along his desk slightly and drew his lips into a thoughtful purse.

“I don’t know. I guess it depends on what the answers are.”


	6. Always the worst part

Nearly two months had passed since the incident. The Hayes’ lives were finally about returned to normal. When Brian told Katelyn about Matthew being a wolf, she knew a little more than him. She told him, determined to convince him, that they could heal from literally anything. He wanted to trust his wife’s experience, but his brain still struggled to accept it. Plus it didn’t change that they knew _nothing_ about him, so they agreed not to mention it to Samantha. It would crush her to get her hopes up and then discover the man was not who she wanted him to be.

  
Brian was just returning from investigating a shoplifting call across town and headed straight to the break room for a coffee. He found Doug there, speaking with Sergeant Derek Moore.

He’d never gotten along with Moore. The guy was too full of himself and talked too much. He was the type of person who’d throw you under the bus in a heartbeat if it would make him look even marginally better. Brian didn’t trust him.

The two men were discussing Matthew though, so it piqued his interest and he paused to listen. Apparently Marty had reported that he was about healed, plus he needed the body storage space, so the department was preparing to go retrieve him.

Sandy and Brian were tasked with the chore.

Bodies that had just come in to be investigated, awaiting autopsy, awaiting to be transported to the funeral home, etc. all went into a giant refrigerator space. Each had their own body-width shelf of sorts that could be pulled out like a drawer.

When Marty pulled Matthew’s drawer out to reveal the man lying on it, Brian didn’t know whether to scream, puke or pray. He settled for gawking, wide-eyed down at the unbelievable sight before him. The man still appeared dead. He was motionless, pale and cold. But the vast majority of the damage was simply gone. Where he had been covered in grievous, deep injuries, he now bore only a few wounds that appeared to be superficial. It was like someone who had been playing a very convincing zombie in a movie had ‘run home to shower real quick’ and came back looking like a normal, living person.

He’d done some internet research on what “Lupines” were. He’d found a ton of info that conflicted. Most sites were based entirely on opinions, whether they be love or bitter hatred for the species. It was scientifically unclear whether the phenomenon was an adaptation or resulted from some mad science type experiment. The majority of the information suggested they should be feared and eradicated. 

Immortality posed a difficulty to that, it seemed.

Here and now though, Brian’s opinion was decided.

They were zombies that could heal.

*****

The outdated fluorescent lighting above him buzzed with an obnoxious rhythm. The overpowering smell of bleach attempted to cover the stench of urine, vomit and whatever else frequented the floor and walls of jail cells. An unsuccessful attempt, to his nose anyway.

He stayed flat on the bench of where he’d been laid in the tiny cell. He had no idea how long he’d been there. He brought his hand up to rub his temple and eventually splayed his hand to cover his whole face in the motion. He took a deep sigh and turned his head to face the bars of the front of the cell.

A corridor ran in front of the cell, but it appeared they had put him somewhere semi-private. He couldn’t see anyone or anything else from his position. He sluggishly dropped his feet to the ground and sat on the bench, hunched forward with his elbows on his knees. He ran his hands through his hair... now in significant need of a cut. He was very surprised however to find that at some point fairly recently, his facial hair had been buzzed off. It wasn’t exactly clean shaven any more, but less than a week’s worth of stubble. Interesting.

As he stretched, he could see he’d been washed off at some point, too. Likely at the Coroner’s. It was definitely better than the ‘coated with long ago dried and cracked blood’ look. He’d been placed in inmate attire... a bright orange one-piece jumpsuit with a drawstring waist. Way, way better than the ‘shredded and rotting, stiff with dried blood and bits of decayed flesh’ look. So he’d take it as a win.

He rocked his head side to side, rolled his shoulders back and continued stretching. He had no idea what day it was, what time of day or where he was. When he had been lying on his back, he’d seen the encased video camera on the ceiling of his cell. He assumed it wouldn’t take long for them to know he was awake. He sighed and sat still, upright on the bench.

This was always the worst part. He never knew what to expect.

*****

Footsteps approached down the hall and a man with sergeant stripes on his uniform appeared in front of his cell. His name tag read “Moore, D”. Matthew had to quickly suck his own lips between his teeth and bite down to suppress a laugh.

The man had an attitude. It was written all over him.

He held a set of handcuffs and instructed “Stand up and face the back wall.” Matthew did as he was told. “Hold your hands behind your back and walk straight backwards toward me.” Again, he immediately complied.

When his hands passed between the bars, the officer roughly grabbed one of his arms and fastened the handcuffs to both of his wrists. The man gave him a slight shove forward as he unhanded his arm and nodded up at the camera for someone to unlock the cell. The door unlatched and the cop slid it open. Matthew didn’t turn or move an inch until instructed to do so.

Now that no barrier separated them, the cop took a half step into the cell. ‘ _Fool_ ’, Matt thought to himself, but made no move at all.

“Ok, shitbag. You’re going to walk with me. You so much as think about trying something stupid, and you’ll be right back in the refrigerator.” the man sneered. He then laid his palm on the top of his holstered gun, to emphasize his words.

“Lead the way.” Matthew replied without any expression at all.

*****

The primary investigators for the shootout, Hernandez and Wright, were standing behind the observation glass of the interrogation room. Brian had been given permission to watch, though he was prohibited from interacting at all. He sat in the uncomfortable chair close to the two-way mirror. Yu was there as well, largely because she’d made a bet with Wright that Matthew wouldn’t make a run for it or attack Moore when he had gone to collect him. She was happy to have won the bet, a free lunch was coming her way next week.

When Moore brought the Lupine into the room, Brian was still in disbelief as to how the situation was possible at all. He looked as though nothing had happened. Not a mark, scar or drop of blood on him.

This was also Brian’s first time really seeing the guy alive through clear eyes too. He’d been so full of adrenaline and pain the last time, plus being flat on his back, he hadn’t really had a chance to study him. He was taller than Brian realized. More rigid and intimidating than he remembered as well, though being handcuffed in an interrogation room didn’t lend itself to friendly relaxation.

Moore roughly shoved the man down onto the metal seat, despite his obvious compliance. Brian narrowed his eyes a bit and twisted his nose in annoyance. This was, after all, someone who had done incredible things for his family. He was a complete stranger, and Brian was eager to learn the man’s motive. But it seemed he owed him his entire world.

With a similar rough shove to the shoulder, Moore moved Matthew’s upper body forward to access the handcuffs. His left was removed and when told to move both hands to the table he did so. The loose cuff was run through the large ring on the table and re-attached to the man’s left wrist. His hands were now secured to the top of the metal interrogation table as he sat in silence.

Wright had been leaning against the side wall of the room and when Matthew seemed situated, she raised her eyebrows with a “Well, let’s see how this goes!” and reached for the door. Hernandez followed her and Moore stayed in the interrogation room as well.

Brian and Sandy eyed one another in tense silence as the others made their way in front of Matthew.

He looked each of the two newcomers up and down as they’d entered, but his expression remained perfectly neutral. There was no indication of hostility or anger at all.

Wright took the seat across from him at the table and laced her fingers together politely on the tabletop, above a small notepad she’d brought in with her. She offered him a fake but pleasant enough smile. He returned a more fake version of the same.

“Hello, I’m Lieutenant Cynthia Wright.” She spoke with a professional softness. “May I have your full name and date of birth for the record, please?”

“Matthew Karl Weber. May 10th, 1906.”

Every human eyebrow raised. The wolf was unfazed by their hushed but brief reaction.

“Thank you, Matthew. Are we correct in concluding that you are a Lupine?”

“Yes.”

“Great.” She glanced down at her notepad. “Your body was retrieved from a shooting that took place on September 17th. Can you tell us what your involvement with that shooting was?”

“It involved primarily shooting and being shot, ma’am.”

Sandy snorted.

Wright tapped her pen against the tablet. “I don’t want to waste your time or mine, Mr. Weber.”

“I’d like to know, please, are Samantha and her family alive and well?”

The female detective studied him briefly while her jaw cocked slightly to run her tongue along her back teeth.

Moore interjected as he leaned against the side wall. “We’re the ones asking the questions here.” A snide attitude, as always.

The Wolf shot a quick glare toward Moore before returning a cool gaze to the woman at the table before him. “I assure you, Detective Wright, your time is far more valuable than mine”... he gestured a small circle into the air with his index finger “... immortality and all. And I can hardly recall the facts through my cloud of concern.” He said, tilting his head somewhat.

Sandy gave a toothy grin as she watched the conversation. “I like this guy.”

Wright tapped her pen a few more times, considering any problems that could arise from giving Matthew the answer he’d requested. “Yes.” She finally responded reluctantly. “Samantha made it home to her parents.”

Matthew visibly relaxed. He shifted forward in his seat somewhat and moistened his lips with his tongue. “Thank you.” His expression softened, but he remained poised. Professional. “What would you like to know?”

“Everything. Please tell us everything you remember, from the beginning of your involvement.”

“I assumed Officer Hayes or his daughter would be targeted. I had faith that your department would handle it and had no reason to become involved. I kept an eye on things however and when I felt my help was needed, I stepped in.”

“How did you know they’d be targeted?”

“I watched the news and applied logic.”

“What is your relationship with Gregory Salinger?”

“I have none.”

Wright leaned back in her seat. “I don’t believe that to be true. The evidence says otherwise.”

“You have no evidence.”

Her eyebrows raised at the bold statement. “You’ve been ... dead?.. for two months. We’ve put together more than you could know.”

“You haven’t put me with Salinger.”

“How would you know?”

“Because no connection exists. I have never interacted or been involved, directly or indirectly, with the man whatsoever.”

”You expect us to believe that you had no prior exchange at all with Salinger, no inside information, and yet knew their plan?”

He gave her a look that questioned her intelligence. ”I’d hardly say expecting a crime lord would retaliate toward the man he believed to be responsible for his son’s death by targeting his daughter is a tough ‘plan’ to crack.” He shifted against the back of the chair and looked down at the table. “I don’t know Salinger and don’t need to,” he stated with a couple of diagonal nods of his head. “I’ve known enough like him to cover the territory of ‘pompous shitbag’ and guess their actions.”

He added momentarily “My only. ONLY _experience_ with Salinger at all occurred when I thwarted his plans by grabbing Samantha before his hired men could. The referenced shooting ensued. That’s it.”

The detective maintained a cool tone, “And what exactly was your specific involvement there?” 

“I shot them. Some shot me back.”

A sigh and shift in posture expressed her frustration with his reply. She lightly wrung and re-situated her hands. “Mr. Weber...”

He cut her off with a loud sigh. “I presumed multiple armed men would come, ready for a fight with the LAPD,” he gestured to the collective crowd around him. “I armed myself but hoped to avoid a firefight to begin with by fleeing to somewhere we could remain hidden until we contacted you all. That had been my hope.” He crossed his legs under the table. “Unfortunately that wasn’t possible, as you know.”

He looked down to his hands and fiddled with his fingers momentarily before blurting the rest out quickly. “So we retreated into the building and I hid Samantha in order to confront the team pursuing us. We exchanged gunfire for several minutes until I had eliminated most of them as threats. I was heavily injured while doing so however and could not guarantee my ability to successfully ensure Samantha’s prolonged safety. I convinced the final remaining opponent to abandon his pursuit and to instead hand Samantha over unharmed. I’m glad to learn that he upheld his part of the bargain.”

The room was silent and still as everyone digested his words.

Speaking up for the first time since entering the room, Hernandez questioned “So... you mean to tell us you took out all of those 14 men on your own?”

“I wasn’t keeping count.”

“You had no help though? It was them against you exclusively?”

“Correct.”

Several glances were exchanged between the cops.

The conversation continued for a while, but no new information was brought to light. Hernandez questioned about the other men and their plan. Matthew insisted he had no other information on Corvin’s identity or whereabouts. He had heard the name and knew the man had a reputation for his determination and that’s where he claimed his knowledge to end.

Wright eventually came to question how Matthew had convinced him to cease his plans to kill or abduct or whatever he’d intended to do to Samantha. “I admit, Mr Weber, we were very confused about why an ‘IOU’”- she held her fingers up to form air quotes- “from a dead man would hold much value. But learning that you were a lupine clarified things. What ‘debt’ do you intend to repay Corvin?”

Matt grit his teeth and stared out into space as he considered the topic as a whole. He’d made a deal with the devil, no doubt.

He shrugged his shoulders in a long, hopeless gesture, “I have no idea what he will ask of me. Genuinely. I have no way of knowing.”

The team seemed to have exhausted their questioning. Nearly an hour had passed. Brian has his arms crossed in front of his chest, one thumb between his teeth as he chewed at the nail. He rocked the metal folding chair back on its hind legs while he mulled his thoughts. An hour’s worth of questions and Matthew had given absolutely nothing away. When he’d been asked about having helped Brian at the warehouse, he stated it was exclusively a matter of having been in the right place at the right time. Not a single incriminating item about himself, it could all be easily painted as self defense. This guy was good.

And what were they going to do with him now?


	7. Horses

The question of what to do with Matthew now was an important one. He had given them his address during the questioning and a team searched the place. Nothing posing any threat was found there. He was compliant and seemed to be telling the truth, based on all evidence they gathered. No one knew what the right answer should be.

In the meantime, he was kept in his solitary cell.

The same evening of the interview, Brian went to visit him. He leaned back against the wall opposite the cell while Matthew sat cross-legged on the bench and greeted with with only a simple, nervous smile.

Brian had so many questions. But he didn’t want to overwhelm the man or ask anything out of line. “Did you really just watch the news and take a wild guess?” 

“More or less.”

He nodded, lips pursed to one side in thought. “Interesting. ...What’s the ‘more’ part?”

Matt grinned softly, appreciating the man’s subtle disbelief. “Like I said. I knew Corvin would mean bad news to whoever he targeted. 

None of you guys... ” he gestured toward Brian with a head nod, “you, Salinger’s guy that he killed -sorry, ‘suicided’- whatever his name was, Salinger himself..... None of you knew who I was. So it was only logical they’d point all of their aggression toward you.”

They regarded each other silently for a moment. Brian pinches his lower lip with his fingers and nodded very slightly a few more times as he considered the words.

Eventually speaking again, Matthew continued with more explanation. “I’m the one who killed the guy’s son. Even though I know you would have gladly done so as well, I felt responsible for the retaliation coming your way. So I kept an eye on your place to see who else might be keeping an eye on your place. ... Yes... I know that makes me sound like a stalker....” he half shrugged, knowing there was no better explanation, “but I’d seen the van, the one that chased Samantha and I in your neighborhood, snooping around for a couple days. I saw where they were parked that day, and I knew their intentions were to grab her. I had to act immediately.”

After another moment of quiet between them, he added, “I’m sorry for the panic I’m sure it all caused.”

Brian’s eyes were hooded and he regarded the other man with reverence. “If everything you’re saying is true, I’m the last person you’d ever owe an apology to.”

The sat in silence for a moment before Matt asked quietly, “... How’s Samantha?”

Big sigh. “Well, occasion nightmares and she’s in therapy to help with residual stress. But overall I think she’s coping with it all pretty well. She’s a tough kid.” Brian rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly and stared mostly at the floor. “We, .. uh,... we haven’t told her about you. About you being a wolf, and all. ...I didn’t want to risk disappointing her. You know... in case you weren’t ... what we hoped.”

Matt seemed a bit sad but agreed. “I understand. It’s probably for the best, anyway.”

*****

The Captain and other Department higher-ups had convened with the state legislature on the matter of what to do with the wolf.

No one externally was pressing charges, Salinger was dead and no precedent had ever been set as to how to handle and sentence a Lupine in a court case. 14 men was a lot of bodies to ignore. But it also really did seem to come down to “self defense” and no one wanted to get their hands dirty with the complications of it all. It was ultimately decided that it was easiest and ... probably... safe?... to simply let the man go.

Hernandez appeared in front of his cell one afternoon to give Matthew the news. “Looks like the brass has decided there’s no reason to keep you here.”

There was genuine surprise to the “Really?” that Matthew replied.

“Yes, sir. They’re processing your paperwork and such now. Should have you out of here within an hour or so. They’ll give you back whatever you had on you when you were...found. But your clothes were pretty destroyed. Do you have anyone who can bring you something to change into or pick you up?”

“.... umm, no. And ...no.”

“That’s ok. We should have some donated stuff that’ll fit you. And there’s a bus station just a block down.”

“Great.” A pause and long exhale as Matt looked up at the Detective from the bench. “Thank you.“

He was discharged 45 minutes later in some black sweatpants that were way too big for him and a green T-shirt that fit him well enough. It bore ‘Peterson Landscape Service’ across the front in blocky white letters. Some cheap but new flip-flops with bright Hawaiian flowers on them had also been given to him. He was thankful for people that donated stuff to the Police Department.

They kept his gun as “evidence” and the receptionist handling the return of his items gave him a ‘good luck ever getting that shit back’ look as she went down the list of his things. He was told the car was to remain impounded until he could pay the fees for it’s release. They didn’t know whether it was drivable after the accident. He didn’t have any credit or bank cards in his wallet, so he’d have to address that later.

His phone was blown nearly in half and caked with dried blood.

His wallet was also trashed, but somehow the $12 in it wasn’t plastered in blood or holes. ’Guess you just have to be thankful for the small things’, he thought. 

With his conglomerate clothes and $12, he walked out of the precinct.

A guy who’d abducted a child, shot and killed 14 people, caused millions of dollars in property damage and given the Police no info of any real value was shoved freely out the door.

“I honestly didn’t see that coming.” He said quietly to himself as he stood on the steps of the Police Department.

*****

His apartment was pretty torn up from the investigators rifling through the place, but he got it back in order quickly enough. The loooong, hot shower and shave was glorious and after putting some of his own clothes on, he walked a few blocks down from his apartment to get a much needed haircut.

After purchasing some basic groceries from the convenience store on the way back, he now laid flat on his back on the concrete of his balcony and smoked a cigarette.

His plants had died. He was thankful he hadn’t had a pet... this was precisely why he’d made that choice.

A knock at his door took him completely by surprise. Smushing out the cigarette into one of the failed planters, he cautiously made his way to the door. He crept to it as quietly as he could to look through the peephole. He was very relieved to see Brian, not Corvin or some hired assassin standing there.

He opened the door with a simple and slightly confused “...hey.”.

It took Brian aback just a bit to see Matt all cleaned up, hair cut and in normal clothes. After seeing someone scruffy and in orange for a while, it was easy to forget what they looked like as a free person. He chewed along his lower lip, nervous as to whether he should’ve come or not. “Hey. Umm, I got your address from the guys at work. I hope you don’t mind.” He continued toying with his bottom lip each time he paused. “I wasn’t working today, didn’t know they were plannin’ to released you already. I’d have given you a ride home if I’d known. Sorry.”

It hadn’t even crossed Matt’s mind that Brian would have been willing to help him.  
“Oh. No, that’s fine. I wasn’t expecting a ride.” he said with a polite smile.

As the two stood awkwardly in the doorway, Matt deeply struggled with his next step. He didn’t want the path to a friendship. Especially not with Brian. If for no other reason, situations where one person felt obligated into being a “friend” because they thought they owed the other something tended to go horribly. Brian owed him absolutely nothing and he didn’t want there to be any thoughts otherwise.

But the man had come out of his way to speak to him and was standing in his doorway. Matthew didn’t want a friendship, but he also didn’t want to be a dick.

“Would you like to come in?” he gestured into the apartment while taking an inviting step back from the door.

“Uh, sure. I-I’m sorry again about just coming unannounced.” He took a couple steps in and let his eyes wander around the place. It was small but pleasant. Tidy. Not many things in the space and also nothing at all of a personal nature. It could’ve been a furnished place up for rent. Neutral landscape type paintings on the wall, no pictures, trinkets or stuff that makes a house a home. “I would have called but I heard your phone had been trashed. Doubt you had time to get a new one yet.” It was a lie, he would’ve come by regardless. The man was a stranger but he owed him everything. The least he could do was visit him in person.

“Ha... yeah it was completely toast. A round went right through it.” He chuckled and recalled the state of the thing. “I should invest in a bulletproof phone. Do they make those?”

He knew they did, he had one. Just not that one.

Brian smiled and half-laughed with him at the thought. He’d become aware of the lip chewing and stopped immediately. He just stood with his hands in his pockets. Still nervous but trying not to give it away. “No idea. ..Nice place you have here. You said at the department you moved in not long ago?”

“Uh, yup. March. However long ago that’s been.” Around four months. Just a couple weeks before the warehouse shooting, but he didn’t want to mention that.

Brian did the math and knew without having to be reminded. “Gotcha.” he still peered around, wanting to be polite. Small talk sucked, but he knew literally nothing about this man. “So what brought you to LA? You have family or work here?”

“Nope, no job here and no one I know. Honestly I just move around quite a bit.” He answered truthfully. Mostly, anyway.

Brian avoided eye contact, hesitating with the next words. “So, umm, Katelyn.. that’s my wife by the way... she and I talked.” He paused to consider the words. He didn’t want to assume the other man’s reaction. “We think Samantha would love to see you. If, you know, it was something you wanted too.” He took a deep breath but quickly hurried, “No pressure at all. Like, we haven’t even told her anything yet about you being alive. Wanted to leave this totally up to you.”

Fuck. Yeah, _see_? This was exactly the kind of thing he really didn’t want. Involvement. Family shit.

Also, there was nothing he could possibly have wanted more. So there was that.

Brian caught on to the internal struggle his offer had caused Matthew. He tried to reassure him, “Hey, truly there’s no pressure either way.”

“Yeah, .. yeah, no, I get it,” he paused and sighed, “I, just... if I’m being honest man, I’m just not really great at .... social....... stuff.” He wanted to say ‘family stuff’, since that was really the more accurate truth. He was perfectly comfortable in an array of social settings. He’d rubbed elbows with some of the wealthiest of the world, spent many nights among the homeless population and everything in between. But families... kids and expectations and dynamics... if he had any record of failure it was certainly within the “family experience”.

Brian chuckled and said “I think she’s already pretty convinced you hung the moon. Just knowing you’re alive will make her the happiest kid in the state. But we know if we tell her, the very first thing she’ll want is to see you.” He gently added, “Her therapist thinks Sam is old enough to deal with the more confusing stuff, and thinks being able to say ‘thank you’ might be good for her.”

“No pressure.” Matt laughed in response to the last part.

Brian laughed and rubbed the back of his neck again. Oops.

After a sigh.... This was a terrible idea... “yeah. Yes, I’d love to see her.”

Brian’s face lit up with happiness. “Are you sure?” It carried the weight of ‘don’t you dare disappoint my daughter’.

“Yeah, I’m positive.”

He was absolutely not positive.

*****

Samantha indeed looked like the happiest kid in the world. She beamed in delight as she welcomed Matthew into their home. She led him around by the hand and gave him a tour of the whole place.

They’d asked him to come over shortly after she got home from school. Samantha’s grandmother, Sarah (Katelyn’s mom), almost always picked her up from school now. She was still understandably nervous about walking home. Sarah was in her late 60s, chipper and energetic. She also greeted Matthew with a bright, warm smile.

Everyone chatted casually. After a while, Katelyn ordered pizza and insisted Matthew stay to share it. Brian vented about some cases and red tape stuff at work. Katelyn was a nurse, she and Brian met when he needed stitches after a Police chase. Sarah and her husband Keith were retired, they’d moved to be close to family. Katelyn eventually asked Matthew “So what do you do for work?” The question had been burning for a while, but seemed impolite to bring up.

“Mostly property investments,” he said honestly. ”Nothing too grand, but with the help of some awesome managers, it sustains itself and doesn’t require much from me. Which is convenient, when you’re occasionally ...” he chuckled a couple short puffs of air through his nose, “..unavailable... for months at a time.”

There were so many things Brian wanted to ask. The answer had been too vague for his liking. Also, how often did this guy die? But Samantha had started straight into eleven year old questions.

“So does that mean you own a bunch of property?”

“I have some, yes. Most of it’s pretty boring though.”

“Do you own a horse?!?” Her eyes went huge with hope.

He laughed with her excitement, “I have before, but nope, no animals at all now I’m afraid.”

“YOU’VE OWNED HORSES!?!”

Her enthusiasm was infectious, everyone grinned. She calmed down just slightly from the outburst, “That’s amazing! What were their names?”

“Well, let’s see... ‘Poppy’ was a beautiful chestnut mare. Very gentle, docile soul that would have lived on peppermint candy if she’d been allowed to. My favorite was ‘Flüg’, that means ‘flight’ in German. My dau.....” the word died in his throat and he twisted the brief flash of pain on his face into a forced smile. “... he, uh, he earned his name because he was very, very fast.”

Samantha missed the slip, Brian did not.

“That’s so cool. I’ve seen some horses, but I’ve never ridden one. I want a whole stable full of them.”

They kept talking about horses for a bit, then school, back to some work conversation, etc. Evening wore on and eventually Katelyn told Sam it was bed time. School tomorrow and all that. Brian insisted on driving Matt home since his car was in the shop and he’d arrived by Taxi.

While Katelyn was helping Samantha get some stuff ready for school the following day and Brian was getting his keys, Matthew stood in the living room looking over family photos that filled one of the home’s light tan walls. Sarah walked over and stood beside him, glancing over the wall of beautiful memories herself. She turned to him and said “You know, it’s ok that you’re here.”

He remained facing the wall, arms crossed, but looked over at the woman by his side. “Is it?”

She gave him the most endearing smile. “Yes. It is. You did a wonderful thing. Many wonderful things.” Squeezing his elbow gently as Brian re-appeared down the steps with his keys, she added, “I hope to see you again.” He nodded and followed Brian out the door.

On the drive, despite his best efforts his curiosity got the better of him and Brian asked carefully, “So, I caught that you have?... or... had? a daughter?”

Matt had guessed the question would come. He wet his lips with his tongue before saying simply, “Yes. It’s not something I care to speak about though, I’m sorry.”

“Understood. Sorry to bring up anything painful.”

Matt just gave a forced smile, “It’s fine.” He changed their subject immediately. “Samantha seems like an awesome kid. I’m glad I got to spend some time getting to know her better. Sorry for any renewed interest in horses.” he chuckled with a more genuine smile.

“Yeah, she’s been hounding us about taking her somewhere to ride ‘em forever. They scare the shit out of me though to be honest,” he admitted with an embarrassed laugh, “so I’ve just avoided it.”

Matt nodded with a smile and stared out the window in silence for a while as Brian drove. They arrived to his apartment building soon enough and the goodbye was brief but pleasant. Matt thanked him for the evening and really meant it. It’d been wonderful.


	8. Checkmate

It was November 9th before Brian got up the nerve and a good enough reason to reach out to Matthew again.

He called and the phone went to voicemail, much to his relief. “Hey, it’s Brian... Hayes. Um, Sam has a request...,” a laugh, “she found some horse trail ride event coming up next Saturday. Katelyn will be at work and I’m not getting on a damn horse. She begged me to ask if you’d go with her. I told her it’d probably be a ‘no’ but she made me promise to ask anyway. If you’re busy or whatever, that’s totally fine.” He trailed off momentarily, not sure what to say before adding quickly, “Hope you’re doing well. Lemme know if this horse thing is something you’d consider. Talk to ya later.”

Of course, Matt went horseback riding.

And very quickly thereafter, he became a common sight in the Hayes home.

*****

There is never a dull moment within the LAPD, but they had several particularly tough weeks in a row. Sandy and Brian had been partnered up to investigate some drug trafficking leads. Salinger and his influence were long gone, but that meant others were now vying for the vacant business opportunity. The duo decided studying evidence would be best done over a beer and headed to Brian’s house after their shift ended.

Sarah happened to have a medical appointment the same afternoon so Matthew volunteered to pick Samantha up from school. It had become a routine for him to help her with her homework. He enjoyed it. He was helping her with an English assignment when Brian and Sandy arrived, 12 pack of Budweiser ain hand.

It had come up that Matt was over often nowadays, but Brian hadn’t known he would be there tonight and Sandy hadn’t seen him since the interrogation months ago. Giving no pause at all to consider her words, as soon as Sandy saw him she grinned a huge, happy smile and blurted out excitedly “OhMyGod, hey Zombie!!”

She and Brian both immediately froze. She definitely had not meant to say that out loud. Brian’s eyes were huge, staring at her in disbelief. “Fucking _seriously_ , YU?!?” he stated at her, horrified.

Matthew on the other hand stared for only a moment before a massive smile crossed his face. He laughed the hardest Brian had ever seen him laugh. He couldn’t even get words out so he pointed an index finger that waved up and down at her as he wheezed, indicating he wanted to speak. Eventually he got out, “You are required, always, to call me that.” Finally he began to contain the laughter. “Seriously, that’s the only way you’re allowed to refer to me from now on.”

Sandy carefully smiled back, but sheepishly said, “I really didn’t mean to say that, I’m, I’m so sorry.”

“Nope,” he replied, “I fucking love it. It’s officially a thing.”

He held her to it, too. It was ‘Zombie’ or just ‘Z’ whenever she referenced him.

  
  


The scene was fairly similar over the next several days. Matt was helping Samantha with a science fair project, so he was at the house daily, more than usual. And the detectives took their work home to get out of the precinct for a while. Many had been working overtime to gain headway on this case. The cop’s organized the latest evidence, audio that had been secured from a wire-tap they’d recently gotten a warrant for.

Voices from the recording began to play. A man Sandy had identified as “Marco” was conversing with another unknown man. They discussed some dinner plans, nothing particularly interesting. The call ended. The next call that played immediately started in another language. Brian muttered, “shit, what language is that?”

Matt leaned back from the bar-height counter where he was still helping with the science project. “Italian.” he supplied.

Sandy said “Fuck,” she threw a quick glance at Sam who’d shot a glare to her at the curse word. “Sorry,... crap, do we have anyone on the department that speaks Italian?” Brian looked like he was racking his brain to supply someone.

Matt offered with a shrug, “I do, if you need the help.”

All 3 humans in the room look at him in surprise. “Seriously, Z? You speak Italian?” Sandy asked.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“That’s... incredibly convenient!” Brian admitted with a laugh.

Samantha was left to focus on the project alone as Matthew translated several conversations for the cops. The following day, Brian called and asked if he’d be willing to come into the precinct to translate other items the rest of the investigation team had assembled. It was more than a little awkward for Matt to walk into the department to meet with people he hadn’t seen since he was on the other side of an interrogation table in an orange jumpsuit. But he wanted to help so he sucked up the discomfort.

Hernandez and Lieutenant Wright were there, as was Doug Brown and a detective Matt hadn’t met before, Oliver Roberts.

So became the next “normal”, Matthew coming into the precinct often to translate conversations and important information. He even accompanied the task force in their mobile command unit (an armored trailer filled with technology) to translate in real-time during a sting they attempted. Unfortunately the plans for the sting were abandoned mid-way, when a key member they’d hoped to grab didn’t show. It hadn’t been worth it to risk.

The task force met the following day, Matt’s translation help wasn’t needed, so he wasn’t present. They decided they needed a deeper approach. They needed someone undercover.

Some suggestions and plans were made back and forth with the Captain and the task force. Doug spoke up and randomly said, “What about Matthew?”

“What about Matthew?” Brian asked.

Doug clarified, “For the undercover work.”

There was a small shuffle of activity as many expressions and some snickers were exchanged. “No, I’m serious,” Doug continued, “who would be better? He knows the case, he knows the language, and none of them will possibly sniff him out as undercover since he isn’t a cop?”

The Captain lifted an eye brow and shook his head, “Absolutely not.”

Yu considered it for a moment and agreed, “He would kinda be perfect...”.

“No.” The Captain leveled. “We don’t know enough about him, he’s not vetted, it would be too much of a risk and a legal nightmare.”

“Would it, though?” Wright asked, “He’s already been assisting. We could just bring him on officially.”

Sandy added with a touch of sarcasm, “Plus, it’s not like anyone is going to sue you if he dies,” offering it with a shrug.

Brian shot her a dirty look and shaking his head, voiced, “I’m not on board with this.”

He was still not on board with it two days later when Matthew was in the Captain’s office being asked if he’d do it.

“Of course I’ll do it.”

*****

The investigation had so far provided that the primary suspect, Marco Vincenzo, was an Italian native with good connections but not as much experience. He was bold, well funded and very eccentric. They needed to prove his guilt and see who else might be involved. 

A confidential middle-man established Matthew as someone interested in a lengthy buying relationship. Cocaine primarily but ‘who knows what’ll come along’. A meeting was eventually arranged between he and one of Marco’s colleagues, but there was strong suspicion Marco himself would be present as well.

Matt was outfitted with a supposedly in-detectable wireless listening device sewn between layers of his suit. He’d provided the custom tailored suit. It was something far more stylish, and expensive, than the department would have come up with. Sandy whistled an impressed reaction when he arrived to the department dressed and ready.

They had eye contacts for him to wear that transmitted video in real time to their mobile command unit, parked hidden up the road. Even studying them in the mirror, Matt agreed they were almost impossible to detect. Impressive video clarity, too. He was given the agreed upon initial purchase amount, four million, in cash in a suitcase. With all of that in place, he was off to the meeting.

As it happened, the “associate” was a woman who could’ve walked straight out of a fashion catalog. Tall, poised and absolutely stunning. Her blonde hair was perfectly styled and she dripped of elegance.

Their meeting place was a suite in a ritzy hotel. She greeted him when he arrived and introduced herself as Marea. Looking him up and down and raising her right eye brow in approval, she gestured for him to enter the small room that functioned as a foyer. Her accent indicated high class Italian upbringing. A single bodyguard stayed silent and still near the door to the suite, his hands clasped in front of him.

She took the suitcase of cash from him, reassuring him it would be safe, and sat it on the floor near the bodyguard. Standing upright, she turned to Matthew fully and without a change in expression, she said “If you would please, strip.”

“Pardon?” He asked with his own raised eyebrow.

“Please leave all of your clothes here in this room. It’s a condition of entering the meeting”

With only a head tilt, he conceded with “As you wish.” and proceeded to shrug out of his jacket and kick off his shoes. As he began to loosen his belt he looked to her for confirmation. “... everything?”

“Yes, please. Completely in the buff.” She remained watching him expectantly.

The command unit observing the transaction live all snickered and exchanged glances. Hernandez voiced, “Well, that’s an interesting greeting style.”

Sandy leaned a little closer to the monitor and Brian jabbed her in the ribs. “What!?” she exclaimed.

The odd request was a clever way to ensure no weapons or recording devices could be snuck into the meeting. Plus it would put most people on edge, leaving them more easily manipulated.

Matthew was definitely not most people. He laid his suit pants next to his jacket on the chair. Dropping his boxers with confidence and stepping out of them, he stood buck naked in front of Marea. She asked him to raise his arms and turn in a circle. He did so slowly and when he was facing the guard (who was still only passively observing), he nodded his chin upward with a “..Sup”. Completing the turn and facing Marea again, he smirked when she looked... impressed.

The surveillance team now lacked any listening capability, but the video feed would still provide much intel. Matthew was careful with where he looked, trying to keep the “intel” relevant. Sandy still laughed loudly and clapped her hands twice when Matt met eyes with Marea. “Oh yeah, she likes what she sees!” Brian rolled his eyes, “fucking focus on the job, YU!”. She didn’t even hit him that time, she was staring at the screen too closely to notice.

Reassured that the man was unarmed and wearing no wire, Marea invited Matthew into the main part of the room. She motioned for him to say at one end of a formidable meeting table. Smiling to him politely, she asked, “Are you a drinking man, Matthew?”

“That depends on what you have, Marea?”  
It was her who smirked this time, held up a finger and said she’d return momentarily.

Exhibitionism was definitely not Matt’s thing. But if these peoples’ game was to unsettle their counterpart, he had no doubts it was a game he could win.

As suspected, Marco made an entrance shortly thereafter accompanying Marea, who set a tumbler of an exquisite scotch in front of him. The newly arriving Italian was almost as stylish as his female companion. The lower half of his head was sheared short with the top pulled up into a samurai knot. He drifted beside her and looped an arm around her waist, kissing her boldly in front of him. Matthew smiled at the display, it spoke volumes. Marco wasn’t happy with how his woman looked at this other man.

 _Check_.

He moved confidently otherwise however, and Matthew stood to greet the man with a mutually firm handshake. 

As both men seated themselves at opposite ends of the table, they moved right into business.

“Have you tried my product?” Marco asked.

“I was hoping to do so directly from you. I trust I’d be able to secure the supply directly from you, and would rather leave no room for... variables.”

“Understood.” he replied and turning to Marea, “My dear, would you bring our guest a sample?”

She gave a small nod and an “Of course, love.” as she immediately rose and exited the room.

Marco sat back in his chair with his legs crossed and hands folded in his lap. He moved one hand onto the top of the table and tapped his fingers in thought. After a beat, he spoke “So, the hope of a mutually profitable future relationship is great. But in order to take you seriously, I need to see that the capability is there, on your end.”

“How can I reassure you?”, Matt asked.

“I’d like to see your funding,” he spoke with a smugness of someone knowingly bending the rules.

“I brought the agreed purchase amount in cash. Your associate left it in the care of the entry guard,” he gestured toward the door.

“Ah, yes, thank you. I mean future capability though,” he maintained eye contact and lifted his chin, “I’d like to see that you have the means to make this a reliable future endeavor. I’m sure you can understand. I simply wish not to waste your time or mine.”

It was a very bold request. And one they had been completely unprepared for. 

“That’s fair.” ... it shouldn’t have been a surprise, given the man’s reputation. But it left Matthew in a compromising position. He was given no way to to prove such a thing through the LAPD. The frustrated bunching at the left edge of his lips made the smug counterpart grin. Matt sighed. “...Do you have a computer I can access?”

Marea strolled onto the room with a small mirror in one hand and as though she’d heard the conversation, she held a laptop in the other hand. She set both in front of him, opening the laptop and entering a password for access. The mirror, with a small mound of white powder, was set to it’s left. Matt took a medium pinch of the white powder and put it between his lower lip and gum line, like a tiny hit of tobacco snuff.

Pulling the laptop directly in front of him, he questioned, “I’m sure you don’t mind if I sweep for a keystroke logger for my own protection?”

“Not at all.”

He accessed the computer’s relevant files. Stealing bank information in this manner would be a ridiculously stupid move for someone in their position to make. But criminals were used to dis-trust, and it was a precaution worth taking. Additionally, he hoped the time in front of the folders he was opening may provide something helpful when the investigators would review the footage later. Satisfied with a brief sweep, he opened an internet window.

The team surveying from the command unit had no audio to go on. They were thankful the conversation had been in English so they could speculate some of the exchange with lip reading.

When they realized Marco was asking for proof of future funding, everyone freaked out. Brian was fuming. “This is exactly the kind of bullshit reason I didn’t want him involved!” Sandy tried to calm him down, but there were no honest words to reassure him. Everyone knew there was no good way out of this situation. They stared at the screen in mounting anticipation. Brown was the more tech savvy of the bunch and quietly praised Matthew under her breath for thinking on his feet to access some telling files.

Brian stood, eyes still locked on the surveillance screen. “He’s fucked,” he shook his head, “They’re going to fucking kill him. He’s already died for me once, how the hell did I let you talk him into putting himself in harm’s way AGAIN?”. He stomped back and forth in the small trailer. He hadn’t really thought about it, but he’d come to consider Matthew at a friend. He was angry and scared for the position they’d put the man in. “He’s so fucked.” he stated as he finally flopped back into a chair and hung his head, his hands covering his face. He peeked between his fingers like a kid knowing a scary scene on the tv was coming. 

This had been an intel gathering meeting. They weren’t prepared to go in guns-blazing. All they could do was stare at the screen and pray Matthew found a way to convince the Italian duo that he wasn’t worth killing.

They watched intently as Matt opened the website to a bank. A German bank. He entered his login info, finding a conveniently timed item to discuss with Marco that took his gaze off of the screen while he typed most of his info. When the login was accepted, “Willkommen, Matthew Weber!” was displayed prominently on the screen. In the moment it took the flash art welcome to be passing, Matt turned the screen to face the Italians.

The observation team all shared equally bewildered glances. The confusion grew when Marco’s eyebrows tented and he nodded once approvingly as his eyes ran from the screen, to Matthew and then back a couple of times.

“What the fuck?” Hernandez asked out loud to the screens, as though they’d answer.

The Italians quickly returned right to business, questioning Matt about future plans. Quantities, timeline, etc. He conveyed that he’d like to take this initial four million dollar purchase to his dealers and test their productivity. He was new to the area, after all. Remembering the computer, Marea slid it back toward Matt but the session had already timed out. The investigators saw nothing. The man double checked that he was indeed logged out and closed the screen.

The exchange had been completely convincing and soon enough, Marco rose and extended his hand to the wolf, a sign he wanted to seal the agreement. When Matthew stood to accept the handshake, the Italian got a full show of the man’s nakedness. He blushed ever so slightly.

 _Checkmate_.

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Weber. We look forward to hearing from you again soon.”

  
*****

It would be dangerous for Matthew to be seen in the Police Department of course, so the newest officer on the task force, Oliver Roberts, was assigned as his handler. They’d meet briefly to discuss relevant info and arrangements.

A couple weeks after his first meeting with the Italians, Matthew arranged a second. This time they met at a vacant property north of the city. It had once been a sawmill and various rusted piles that used to be equipment still littered the place.

He dressed more casually for this encounter, though still classy and professional. Video contacts were in place. His jacket again contained the sewn-in recording device and he assumed they wouldn’t have him walking through the overgrown lot in the nude. When their bodyguard checked him, he was relieved when their scanner did not detect his ‘wire’.

This meeting was just to provide an update, all talk. He reported fake good sales results and feedback from his first purchase, and wanted more for the second shipment. He prodded with his questions enough to get as much information as possible without raising suspicion.

Some personal questions came up as well. He asked how Marco and Marea had met, how long they’d been together. Casual, friendly stuff. Matthew leaned against the side of the black Mercedes he’d driven to the meeting as he pulled out a cigarette.

Marco shot a teasing, somewhat spiteful glare to his lover and it turned to a wicked grin as he looked toward the other man. “She wants to fuck you, you know.”

Marea’s features clouded with surprised anger. “Marco you’re too reckless with your jokes. You’re the only man for me.”

His snarky smile was unchanged as she spoke, he’d turned his head only slightly toward her. Locking eyes again with Matthew, he continued to speak to the other man. “Would you fuck her? If she asked you to?”

Matt produced a lighter and stood with it in his right hand, the cigarette delicately between the fingers of his left. His casual, relaxed expression hadn’t changed once. As Marea opened her mouth to voice her displeasure with Marco’s words, Matthew simply stated “No.” He moved the lighter in his hand to strike it and brought the cigarette between his lips, steadying the flame to it.

His word had brought the other two to a momentary silence. “ _No_?” Marco asked, amused and curious.

He tilted his head upward and let out a narrow column of smoke. “No,” he repeated. “I have no interest in fucking someone else’s wife.” He flipped the lighter shut. “Even with permission. It’s too...” a gesture of his left hand, cigarette perched between the fingers. “... classless?... not my thing.”

Marco laughed, seemingly unsure whether he believed the other man. Matthew continued, “ _Now_....” he said with an intentional pregnant pause, putting the cigarette to his lips. He took a long drag, holding it momentarily. Letting the smoke escape with a light hiss through his teeth, he continued. “... I _would_ however gladly make a night of it and fuck the _both_ of you.”

In a trailer parked several streets away, Sandy exclaimed a quiet “... _holy shit_.”

As Marea struggled to keep her face from betraying any emotion, Marco belted out a surprised laugh. He waved a finger at Matthew in amusement, giant cheshire grin on his face and said “You, sir, I like you.” Matt raised an eyebrow and shrugged, flicking the cigarette into a puddle of rusty water on a nearby platform. He leaned forward from the car and retrieved the keys from his pocket.

Giving nothing more about the topic, he turned to go. “Well, you two have a great rest of your day. Let me know when the order is ready.”

*****

The very first thing Detective Roberts voiced at their next meeting the following day was that the department had no expectation for Matthew to become “sexually involved” while undercover. Roberts was clearly uncomfortable with the topic and when Matt maintained his best Poker face and invited him to join the party, the poor guy was speechless. The wolf finally broke, “Dude I’m just kidding.”

“Cute,” he responded, not appreciating the humor at all, “but _I’m not_ kidding. No one expects that, and it’s not going to get us any closer to anyone we want to take down.” He added after a pause, “Brian flipped his shit.”

Matt laughed out briefly at the thought of Brian (and everyone else) witnessing him propositioning a threesome with the criminals. He laced his finger and folded his hands on the table between them. Leaning forward and shedding some of the humor, he said “All joking aside, please tell Brian not to worry. I’ve got this. We actually have our next meeting arranged already too. Coastal Suites, next Thursday at 8pm.”

Another hotel suite.


	9. Oh, so you’ve discussed me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one giant, explicit m/m/f sex scene. Some minor restraint and very brief mentions of past trauma occur but everything here is consensual. If smut isn’t your thing, you won’t miss anything relevant to the story line to skip the whole chapter.

Knocking on the door promptly at 7:53, the wolf straightened his tie and inspected his suit. Marea greeted him in a long silver evening gown, her hair set perfectly into a tight bun. The newly present mischievous glint in her eye did not go unnoticed. Marco on the other hand seemed more apprehensive than he had for the prior meetings.

‘ _Oh, so you’ve discussed me._ ’ Matthew mused to himself.

The first half hour or so passed as expected. The two men sat opposite one another on the small couches adorning the office space of the business suite. They solidified when and where he’d pick up the shipment of drugs the following day. Who would be delivering them, etc.

As the necessary information was successfully covered, Marea quite suddenly asked “Would you like to stay for a Martini, Mr. Weber?” It was as though she’d had to work up some courage to ask, the beginning of the question blurted into voice that became more steady and seductive by the end of the sentence. Marco’s jaw subconsciously clenched.

“I’d love to, Mrs. Vincenzo.”

“Wonderful!” she said with a playful smile, “How would you like it?”

Better people would have come up with other options. Attempted any number of routes to avoid it. Matthew is not one of those people.

“Dirty.” he replied quickly with a Cheshire smile.

Flashing a baited grin, she headed toward the suite’s small bar. When she returned with two drinks, she handed one directly to him. She let her fingers play across his as she withdrew them from the glass. Her green eyes shifted from the drink, upward to meet his blue gaze. And like her hand, they lingered there momentarily.

Turning away finally, she walked to her husband and sat atop the sofa’s arm rest, directly beside him. Crossing her legs delicately, she held his Martini out to him and leaned down to whisper something in his ear. She spoke it in Italian and it was barely audible, but Matt understood it easily. “You can kill him if you become too jealous, my love.”

Marco turned his face into hers to speak directly into her ear at the same hushed volume and language, “Why would I be jealous? You’re mine, after all. New toys are fun to play with, but I know you’ll tire of it ... him... soon enough.”

Matthew considered carefully whether he should give away the information that he also spoke Italian. On one hand, there could be advantages of being honest with them now. It could win him a vote of honesty and willingness to be forthcoming with the fact. If they needed to communicate amongst other people at a later date, it could come in handy.

On the other hand, he’d miss the opportunity to hear words like these, spoken with the confidence that they were discreet. Choosing this at the better scenario for intel, he opted to keep the fact secret. He smiled at the two as though he had no idea what had been said. It’s not like he was worried about the threat anyway.

Placing his right hand on his wife’s crossed knees, Marco stared across the short distance of the meeting space at Matthew. His lips were half-pursed to one side and he held a look of chagrin as he brought his Martini to his lips.

After he’d downed a stout swallow, Marea reached out her hand and softly led her husband’s face back toward her own. She kissed his lips, prodding for the kiss to become erotic and impassioned. The man surrendered to the request, allowing her tongue entrance to his mouth. The two broke off the action with Marco’s teeth chasing his wife’s lips as she moved away.

Sipping his drink as he observed the couple, the wolf was otherwise still. Facing him, the woman asked, “Is it good?”, not specifying whether she was referencing the drink or the couple’s show.

“Delightful!” he replied and then continued, “Do you mind if I borrow your washroom briefly?”.

She rose gracefully with an “Of course.” and led him the short distance to it. Opening the door for him, she stood so that their bodies would inevitably brush as the man walked past. He paused as they were close and smirked before moving away from her as he entered the room.

Apparently the evening’s activities had already been decided. 

Closing the door between them he stood before the mirror, placing his hands at the edge of the vanity. He stared into the cameras that were his own eyes in the mirror, his smirk turning to a full grin. His right brow tented and he threw a suggestive wink at his own reflection and it’s several observers.

Abruptly, he tilted his chin toward the ceiling and rolled his eyes upward dramatically in order for his finger to access the edge of the contacts. He pulled each out, discarding them into the toilet. Sorry surveillance team, not a chance in hell that this was going to be witnessed. Audio would be only briefly available as well probably, since his jacket would likely be soon discarded into some corner. He flushed the toilet, ensuring the camera devises were gone.

This would be a calculated and delicate endeavor, Matt knew that when he’d made the proposition. His intentions for doing so were varied. Foremost, it was simply to calm Marco’s concerns. The man was clearly insecure about his wife’s interests and perceived Matthew as a threat. Attempts to simply dismiss interest in her could be taken as lies by him, or insults by her. But suggesting an event involving the three of them would not only surprise both, it would convey a bold confidence and openness. 

Honestly, he never really expected them to go for it. But he’d never make a suggestion he couldn’t follow through with. 

Casual sex wasn’t common for him, much less this sort of thing. The ensuing act wasn’t going to satisfy any fantasy or deep need of his. He’d done it all before and it held little interest to him. Truth be told, in his heart he was a hopeless romantic.

Emphasis on the hopeless part.

The love of his life was long dead. As he stared at himself in the mirror now, it crossed his mind (as it often did), that she would be mortified at what he’d become. His eyes closed in shame to the thought. Now wasn’t the time. Another woman he’d fallen for had left him after only two years for valid but painful reasons. The third remaining spark of interest he had quickly snuffed out himself.

When he loved, he did so with every fiber of his being. And when that love was lost, it took the same with it. That wasn’t something he wanted to subject himself to ever again.

So no, he had no romantic or emotional interest in the Italians whatsoever. Which was the only reason he’d entertain something like this. He knew that if he could play his cards right, it would create a dynamic that would advance the investigation more than the LAPD realized. He sighed toward the mirror, washing his hands just for the telling sound that he was finished. Straightening his suit, he walked out of the bathroom.

None of those things meant he couldn’t enjoy himself while he was at it..

Marea had returned to her husband's side. His hand again sat upon her knee, but this time it was under the fabric of the evening gown. Matt passed by the couple, retrieving his Martini and taking another sip. Marco's glass was empty and at the other man's return, Marea gingerly took it and brushed past Matthew toward the bar.

Matt let his eyes wander up and down the full height of the woman as she walked away. He wanted the spark of jealousy he saw appear on the other man's face.

As Marea busied herself with refilling the drink, Matthew asked the husband, "Tell me Marco, have you ever done anything like this?" He gestured with his glass to make a circle including all three people. He glanced down to see that the man had been glaring at him as he spoke.

He sniffled slightly and then replied, "I've had multiple women at once, before Marea and I were together. But certainly nothing involving another man." He scoffed, "...This is her fun, not mine."

"A generous gesture, to bend your own interests to allow her to fulfill a fantasy." He toyed with the olives in his martini as he spoke. "But... I do think you'll find there will be plenty of fun here for you as well."

The other man looked wholly unamused. One lip drawn up in disgust, "Watching another man enjoy my wife is hardly something I'd consider 'fun', Mr Weber." He studied his own hands to avert his eyes from the wolf. "But making his wife happy is a man's job, no? Plus, I don't expect her interest to last long." Shooting him a belittling look, "...No offense."

Matt nodded in understanding. "Yes, I must agree. With both sentiments." He placed his glass on the table beside Marco and moved to be standing fully in front of the man. "But... " he lowered a knee onto the couch, between the seated man's legs, "I believe you may be overlooking part of this endeavor."

Marco's eyes widened in surprise, he scrambled to find his voice "I-I'm not gay!?" was all he could come up with.

"Neither am I, Mr. Vincenzo," he spoke softly while casually grasping the top of the man's tie, "but let me assure you, that won't stop either of us."

The panicking man's eyes continued to round as he pushed backwards into the couch to get away from the wolf. His nostrils flared in fear as his hands gripped for the upper edge of the furniture, attempting to crawl upwards over it.

"Shhh, shh, sh..." Matt gently hissed through narrowed lips, "Calm down, my dear, I'm not going to hurt you." He did not allow any give to his hold on the tie however, and the other man soon found himself firmly secured in his place.

Matt remained perched like this -one knee snugly between Marco's thighs, leaning over him as he held the man by his tie- as Marea rounded the threshold to enter the room. She gasped and spilled a few drops of the Martini she was carrying. Her husband's wide, dark eyes shot up to her and then immediately back to the face almost touching his.

Unfazed by her arrival, Matthew gently brought his free hand up toward the younger man's face. He rested the edge of his curved index finger below his chin and the pad of his thumb almost brushing the man's bottom lip. It caused Marco to remain frozen, eyes trained straight forward into Matt's.

"Shhhh," he repeated and let out an airy huff of a laugh, "Relax, please," he shook his head and withdrew it somewhat, with a surprisingly warm smile, "I'm not going to rape you, Marco. I promise, I'm not going to hurt you." He regarded the man with a calm tone and expression, "I'm not even going to kiss you, not without permission."

Keeping his left hand's light grip on the man's chin, Matt continued his soft words, "I DO however, believe it will take forcing a bit of proof to convince you that this evening's pleasure will not exclude you." His other hand removed its pressure from the tie, allowing the silk of it to slip between his fingers as he slowly moved along it, down the buttons of the shirt that covered the Italian's chest.

Marea remained frozen as she observed. Her lower jaw hung open slightly with her lips stuck in a loose "o". The initial fear that her husband was in danger gave way completely to incredible arousal at the sight of him being practically mounted by another man.

Reaching the point where Marco's tie dipped behind the button of the suit's jacket, Matthew paused the downward movement and undid the jacket's black button. Flattening his hand over the dress shirt covering Marco's abdomen, he slid his palm upward and toward the shoulder now, tracing beneath the edge of the black jacket.

The fingers of his left hand guided the man's chin forward as his right reached the shoulder. He cupped the shoulder and gently pulling forward, coaxed Marco to both lower his hand from the back of the couch and to lean slightly toward him. He pushed the jacket 's edge back, freeing it from the upper arm. Their eyes remained locked as Matthew finally ran his left hand down from its hold on the man's chin, grazing over his neck. He allowed his thumb to wander the line of Marco's jugular and reaching his collarbone, slid the hand along this shoulder to remove the jacket from this upper arm as well.

Matthew held his hands loosely behind each of Marco's arms now and pushed the jacket straight downward. The Italian man still sat in fright, jaw clenched and deep breaths moved through his flared nostrils. But he'd relaxed some from his initial state and blinked often at the man in front of him.

Arching his back forward off the couch, Marco allowed the jacket to be pushed down along his arms. When he moved to fully remove the jacket however, Matthew firmly gripped each arm, just above the wrists. The Italian's eyes darted quickly back and forth as he realized the placement of the jacket now secured his wrists to either side of him.

"No, no," Matt purred, "none of that. You're doing great." Reassured by the praise, Marco relaxed with a long exhale through his nose. "There you go, good job. Just relax." He calmed even more, loosening his jaw to wet his lips with his tongue.

Giving the man a moment to breathe and calm his heart rate, Matt leaned back several inches. When Marco made no move to escape the position he was in, the wolf stood. "Good. Ok, Marea..." he trailed off.

"Actually," Matt spoke again, "let's resume this in the bedroom." As Marco remained semi-trapped on the couch, Matthew quickly unbuttoned and shrugged off his own jacket -and the listening device within it- and draped it over the opposite sofa. He leaned down and grasped Marco's bicep to help the man to his feet. Gripping the accordioned jacket that still locked his arms, Matt maintained his control of the man as Marea gleefully led the way to the bedroom.

Marco's head swam with confusion. How the hell did any of this happen? This was supposed to be his wife's silly fun. He was just going to watch because for one, he was too jealous to be anywhere else knowing his wife was taking another man's dick and two, because she'd been adamant that he may enjoy watching. He had vehemently argued that would never happen. But eventually they came to the agreement that he would stay but if he hated it, he could kill the relative stranger without much hassle or monetary loss.

He'd been strongly considering it as soon as he saw how this bastard was ogling over her before they even started. And now... now he was in the middle of whatever THIS was?!?

The man had practically assaulted him, forced him into silent, terrified submission like a child. How own wife at the stranger's heel like a poodle. He was a grown fucking man. And this lunatic was leading him around his OWN hotel room like he was his toy. He'd never been so insulted and infuriated in his life.

And he would never, never in a million years, admit that he was already becoming aroused.

Matt spun the man to face him and with a hand on either shoulder, shoved him backwards. When the backs of his knees collided with the mattress, he fell gracelessly onto the bed with an "oof."

Marea giggled at his awkward landing as he struggled back upright on the edge of the bed. "Ah, ah," Matt chastised her softly, "Never laugh at someone who's compromised their own ego for your benefit." The woman pulled her lips between her teeth in apologetic playfulness. Marco found himself surprisingly appreciative of the other man's words.

His wife stood with sheepish excitement beside the bed. One knee bent in front of the other while she held her onto own wrist behind her back. Turning to his right to face her, Matt reached out his hand to gently run the backs of his finger along her hair, just behind her left ear. Brushing the large pin that held her bun in place, "May I?" he asked.

She responded with a quiet "Of course."

Pulling the ornate pin allowed the dark honey golden strands to fall past her shoulders. Standing in front of her, he ran his fingers through it, careful to avoid any snags.

Her playfulness dissipated as she brought her own hands up to the front of his dark red collared shirt. Slowly releasing each button from its hold, her breaths quickened.

"May I kiss you?" He whispered. Her eyes moved from the shirt buttons up to his face and she gave an excited nod. Tilting his head, he moved in slowly but confidently to press his lips to hers. His hands gently cupped either side of her lower jaw. Their tongues and lips intertwined.

When her hands reached his belt, she tugged the shirt up to free it from beneath his suit pants. As it came loose, her hands ran curiously along the muscles of his back. She pulled the shirt off of him, discarding it on the floor. Drawing away from the kiss to watch the path of her hands, she traced her fingers along the defined musculature of his chest.

Matthew's fingers sought the zipper at the back of her gown and then hovered there, giving the woman an unspoken opportunity to object. Instead, she kissed him again. The gown pooled quickly at her ankles with a 'swoosh', leaving the woman adorned only in her white bra and panties.

Embracing the soft warmth of her bare skin against his caused a hitch in the breath at the back of his throat. It'd been so long since anyone had touched him with kindness and want. Years.

He wasn't stupid. He knew none of this was about him, not really anyway. No tears would fall if Marco killed him here and now. But the woman's desire was real and he wouldn't deny himself the enjoyment of it while it lasted.

Still complying with the silent command to do so, Marco remained seated near them at the edge of the bed. He wore a frown, but said nothing. This was after all the part he was expecting and had agreed to.

Matthew bent his knees slightly so that when he brought the woman fully against him and stood, she was lifted her from her feet. She laughed with the motion and allowed herself to be turned and gently laid flat on the bed.

She parted her legs, inviting him onto the mattress between them. Lifting her again with ease, he scooted her further to the center of the mattress as he kneeled close to her.

Her perfume was sophisticated, hints of orange blossom and sandalwood greeted his senses as he gently kissed her bared throat. He licked and stroked his lips along her collarbone and the base of her neck. His right hand remained on the woman's side, just at the base of her ribs. He gently caressed her there while his left held his own weight hovering slightly above her body.

Leaving her bra in place, he kissed along the top of her breasts, just where they met the silky fabric's edge. Dipping his head slightly further down, he planted a single kiss halfway to her navel. She inhaled sharply when he teased his still clothed but growing erection between her parted legs while doing so.

She emitted a frustrated huff when he pulled back from her to rest fully on his knees. Marco sighed a far louder, more annoyed exhale.

Matt gave an airy laugh as he turned toward the other man and said "Oh don't you worry. I've hardly forgotten about you."

Where Matthew kneeled was only a small distance from where Marco still sat. Marea's bare leg brushed her husbands left arm. When the woman's fingers came forward to grasp Matt's belt, the wolf stopped her. "Not yet," he instructed. "I fear that would make your husband most uncomfortable."

The other man remained frowning and muttered, "All of this is making me uncomfortable."

"Let's address that, then." Matt said as he rose from the bed and stood in front of the still seated, slightly bound Marco.

The Italian man scoffed with petulance, "If you think there's any way I'm letting you tou-", the remainder of the sentence and his expression died immediately as Matthew's hand firmly clamped against his throat. He was pushed onto his back as his hands struggled to free themselves from the suit's sleeves that pinned his arms to his sides. It was surprisingly difficult, as the tightly buttoned wrists of his dress shirt were twisted within the jacket's fabric.

His anger spiked at the helplessness and he spit, "You motherfucker, you're dead." The hand tightened around his throat and fear began to seep into his mind again as he struggled in vain to escape. The hold on his throat remained as Matt hooked his other arm below his waist and lifted him with ease toward the center of the bed. Placing a knee on either side of his thighs, Matthew straddled him fully. The human strained and twisted every which way to escape the position, to no avail. He gave a furious, long and throaty grunt as he glared angrily up at the man pinning him. 

Marco panted with the hopeless exertion and fear of what the other man's intentions were. The grip on his neck was enough to lock his upper body in place, but he could still breathe through a somewhat pained whine. No immediate further action came however as Matt again again allowed him to calm himself.

The wolf loosened his grip to run his hand far more gently up and down the man's throat, as though apologizing for the rough handling. "Much better, see? You're only hurting yourself with this nonsense." He stretched out the words in a long soothing breath, "Calllmmm doowwwn."

Matthew looked to the woman next. She had rolled to her side, half propped on her elbow. She seemed concerned for Marco but unsure of what to do. "Marea, you beautiful creature, would you come reassure your husband?" Her eyes sparkled in excitement at the instruction. She shifted herself toward her man with a grin and stroking his cheek with her left hand, began kissing him.

It worked, and after several beats he began to focus on his wife's touch and relaxed into it.

His lower lip trembled against her kiss when he felt Matthew removing his belt.

Marco closed his eyes to the stress as the other man shifted their weight to slide the suit pants down his legs, his boxers left in place. He toed his own shoes off however to allow the pants and socks to be completely removed. His wife continued her efforts, nipping at his earlobe and laving her tongue along his neck.

A small whimper escaped him when he felt the other man kissing his abdomen. A few light pecks became long, wet licks along the front of his hips.

His wife's fingers were unbuttoning his dress shirt as her tongue ran along the inside of his mouth. He concentrated on her movements.

It took him a half of a moment to realize the tongue running a delicate pattern along his bare nipples belonged to the other man. He moaned at the betrayal of his own body as his boxers grew tighter.

Matthew stood to re-situate. Marco swallowed thickly as his eyes sought comfort in his wife's calm face while the other man's hands parted his legs to kneel between them. As Matthew had alluded to, he was indeed greatly reassured that the encroaching participant's pants were still in place.

As kisses and light nips resumed along his torso, Marco's erection strained against it's fabric housing. Fingers finally tugged downward at the hem of the fabric. He lifted his own hips as Matthew briefly moved from the bed to withdraw the garment.

His jacket and unbuttoned shirt still remained but his lower half was now fully exposed, the opposite of the man now crawling back toward him. Hands, lips and careful teeth groped his thighs and abdomen. A tongue trailed the crease at the front of his pelvis. His now rock hard erection however was completely untouched. He began to gently buck his hips upward, straining for the friction that was being denied.

Continuing to ignore the touch the man silently asked for, Matthew instead placed a hand at the back of each of Marco's knees. The Italian swallowed a gulp of air and made a surprised, fearful "Aaahhh!" sound when Matthew pushed his knees upward and apart, rolling his hips up off the bed. The motion parted the man's ass cheeks and fully exposed his virgin entrance between them.

"Shhhhh." Matthew soothed up at the younger man. As the stranger's face disappeared below his hips, Marco's chest pounded in excited and terrified anticipation.

Hot breath moved along his testicles and then a soft wetness caressed the rim of his ass. Marco's back and neck arched rigidly as he held his breath. The man's tongue laved along the puckered hole, prodding gently at its center.

Marea had stopped kissing him, staring in disbelief as the stranger's head moved slowly behind her husbands hips. She looked down to Marco's face. It was still lined with stress, but ecstasy overcame his features as he lost himself to the sensation.

Never in his life had Marco experienced any aspect of this treatment. And certainly his wife had never seen him put into this literal or figurative position.

His neglected erection dripped with pre-cum. Matt's wicked tongue continued to gently part the man's entrance as he relaxed into the foreign but incredible feeling.

When the tongue ceased, he found himself quite disappointed. Mathew pressed a chaste kiss to his inner thigh as he lowered him back to the mattress.

The wolf's gaze met Marea's and he beckoned her with the curling of his index finger. She practically lept toward him with an excited chirp. She knelt closely before him with a large grin. He smiled at her endearing enthusiasm.

Brushing her hair back from her shoulders he lowered his head to kiss her upper breast. He gently pulled with his teeth at the bra that still adorned her, releasing it from his grip as he said "this needs to go". She immediately moved her hands to loosen the garment as his thumbs slid along the edge of her silk panties. He dipped just his thumbs below the elastic waistband. When she offered no objection, he pushed them down to her bent knees.

His lips peppered her now bare breasts with tender caresses. One hand remained on her leg while the other ran back up her side to rest on her lower back. In a motion she wasn't expecting, she squealed a tiny giggle as he scooped the lower arm behind her legs and picked her up. Crawling on his knees, he sat her further up the bed, partially propped on the pillows.

Leaving her there, Matt rotated back toward Marco, now closer to his head which still rested back against the comforter.

He helped the man sit upright and finally moved to unbutton the sleeves of the dress shirt that still restricted him. He pulled each sleeve to free the hands from it. Marco stretched with a "Fuck, finally!".

Marea chose to move forward and reaching from behind Matthew, she made another attempt at removing his belt. This time he let her and she slid the suit pants and boxers down in one motion. He lifted each knee and toed off his shoes so they they could be removed completely.

All 3 were now fully naked.

Still behind him, Marea pressed her bare front against his broad back and groped the wolf. Her hands ran along his abdomen and upper thighs, one hand finally finding purchase along his formidable erection. He covered her other hand with his own as it stilled over his chest. His brows gently knitted and eyes closed with the greedy attention being given to his touch-starved body. He relished in the moment, taking several steady breaths while her free hand loosely glided along his shaft.

Finally shaking the power she held over him, he rotated toward her. "Lube?", he asked. She reached into the nightstand to produce a blue bottle, handing it to him. He took it and with a mischievous grin, pushed her back to her place on the pillows. "Stay there this time," he instructed with a smirk.

"Yes, sir." she returned, giddy with the playfulness.

Free now from his binding, Marco had moved to sit Indian style. He massaged his wrists and pouted slightly. They wouldn't bruise much but held some soreness just the same. He strongly considered punching the other man now that he was able to. But the throbbing pressure between his legs still demanded attention.

Matthew watched him for a moment before asking, "Are you going to punch me if I touch you?".

What, was this guys a mind reader too?

He gruffly sighed at the blue-eyed man. "Maybe..."

Laughing in reply, Matt reached his left hand forward slowly, gently massaging the back of his neck. He leaned into Marco and with his shoulder pushing against his bare chest, he coaxed him back down onto the comforter.

He returned to his previous place between the man's bent, parted knees. There was no objection this time, just an inhaled hiss as his wet tongue flattened against the man's ass hole. Marco began to stroke himself and immediately, Matt slapped the hand away, "That'll come soon." The Italian grumbled but complied.

The wet motions tracing the rim and prodding the center of his ass resumed as Marco let out an unintentional moan.

The pad of a thumb briefly replaced the tongue, continuing its actions as Matthew spoke, "Marco, I'd like to let you experience something else, if you're willing. Just a single finger entering you. It will feel odd but I promise you it won't hurt. I think you'll enjoy it. If you don't, just say 'stop' and I'll do so immediately. 

The man struggled with how to respond as the wolf thumbed the outside of his ass with slightly more pressure than the tongue had allowed. His eyes hooded to the sensation. His tone was serious though. "You are absolutely NOT going to fuck me."

Matt huffed a laugh, "With my dick? No, of course not. I mean a finger and only a finger." Marco held eye contact for a moment, cursing himself. He finally nodded in agreement, disbelieving he was going along with this.

With the snap of the lube's cap, he felt the cool liquid, even more wetness than before. A single digit ran around his rim. Gentle pressure caused it to glide past the outer tight ring of muscle. As the tip of the man's finger entered him, the sensation was indeed odd. His body clamped down, insisting on denying the intrusion to his most sensitive orifice. Marco clenched his jaw but allowed it to continue.

The finger receded briefly and more lubricant eased it's next attempt. Odd as the feeling was, it burned through him with an intensity he'd never felt before. It was incredible. He struggled not to come from this action alone.

He couldn't really tell how much of the finger now occupied him. Once the muscle had been passed with a barely uncomfortable pressure, not enough width had been added to really contribute pain. There was simply a slick presence moving in and out of him. An intense, electrifying presence. He relaxed as the motion continued slowly.

A sudden pressure when the finger curled upward brought sparks. The sensation overtook his system and a loud, unexpected gasp escaped him. His back lurched from the bed with the action. God he was suddenly so close he could hardly hold himself back.

A lube-slick hand enveloped his cock finally, finally gifting it the pressure and friction he was too proud to ask for. Moaning a cry of pleasure as the finger again pressured that sensitive spot inside him, he could no longer contain himself.

He came, chest arched from the bed as semi-clear fluid splattered his own stomach in small bursts.

He sank in to the bed as the finger withdrew and the hand milked the final drops of cum from him. Unable to speak yet, he laid still and basked in the pleasure. The man hovering above him smirked with victorious satisfaction.

"Rest up", Matthew mused as he patted the side of Marco's ass, "you're not done yet."

Who the fuck is this guy?

Matt now crawled on all all fours toward Marea. The sight of her husband coming undone at the mouth and hands of another man was more than she could handle. Her left hand gripped the closest pillow firmly as her right hand fingered along her own slick wetness.

He clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth in a "tsk, tsk, tsk," shaking his head, "such poor restraint." She shrugged and dipped her head to one side, "That was incredibly hot, I couldn't help it."

"Well I'm glad you enjoyed the show," he mused as he reached her, hovering over her to kiss her lips. She reached to touch his dripping erection with the hand not currently fingering herself. In return, he quickly grabbed both of her hands and pinned them securely above her head. He hissed down at her, "Patience, dear." The woman's lips curled devilishly with the calculated show of force.

He licked and nipped at her jawline, turning her head to trace downward along her throat. He moved over her body like it was a fine work of art, savoring the flavor of her skin.

She brought her knee up to pressure between his legs. Not enough to be painful, but just shy of it. "I'll warn you, I really don't have Marco's patience."

"Hmm, I see," he replied, "very well...".

He removed himself from the bed briefly to retrieve a condom from his pants pocket and quickly rolled it onto himself. Always better safe than sorry. He returned immediately to his previous placement. 

Moving to facilitate the position, she spread her legs widely for him to rest between them. She wrapped their long, sensual frames around him. He teased his erection along her wet warmth, slicking it in the process.

Keeping her hands pinned above her, he applied toothy pressure around her left nipple, letting his tongue wetly drag back and forth across the point as it hardened below his mouth. He moved to do the same to her right breast as he continued teasing his length along her cleft before steadying the tip of his cock with the slightest pressure against her deeper opening. She shuttered in anticipation.

Withdrawing his lips from her chest, he whispered against her temple, "Is this what you want, Marea?"

"Yes, please," she whimpered as her hips drew up toward him, hungrily chasing his cock. "Please, I want you inside of me."

With a long, slow pressure, he let her heat consume his erection. As he buried his full length within her, his own breathy moan escaped his lips. The woman wailed out her pleasure, far less bashful in her desires and the sounds of her lust than her husband.

With steady, measured strokes, he began to move in and out of her warmth. His large shaft filled her to a delicious satisfaction. Her legs still wrapped him, pulling him deeply into her with each thrust.

Flattening his chest to her, he moved his arms beneath her back. His cock still buried within her, he pulled upward and lifted her body upright onto his lap.

Thrilled at the position of better control, she moved faster, letting her weight drop down onto his thick rigidity. After kissing along her neck for a while, he eventually laid backwards and let her ride him in full. "Oh God, yes!" she continued to loudly voice her elation.

The position brought Matt's head against Marco's bicep. "Perfect."

The wolf twisted his upper body to rest on his elbow. "Come here," he instructed, "closer."

Doing as he was told, the man scooted to be more in line with where Matthew faced.

His dick was no longer at attention, a combination of having been satisfied recently and as he'd suspected, Marco was indeed not a fan of watching his wife being pleasured by another man's cock. He had nothing to be ashamed of, but was still insecure about their noticeable size difference.

Matt's single hand undid the other man's hair with surprising ease, considering he'd never touched a samurai knot before. Letting the hair fall to drape around the Italians face, he carded his fingers along the scalp. The man's expression softened at the small affection.

Ruffling the shorter hairs at the back of the man's skull, Matt pulled him closer, tilting his chin upwards and kissed along his neck. He flattened his tongue across the front of the throat so that his Adam's apple pushed against it as he swallowed. He toyed his way along the man's bare chest.

Pulling back, he asked "May I kiss you?" and was honestly surprised when Marco nodded. Not only had he allowed it, the younger man returned the kiss with depth and passion. Cupping his jaw in one hand, Matthew shifted so that he could gently stroke the man's cock. It stirred into interest again quickly at the touch.

Watching the two men make out was more than Marea could handle. Her motions intensified, repeatedly slamming herself down onto Matthew.

She cried out in pleasure, throwing her head back as she came.

Her body glistened with sweat. Matthew momentarily abandoned the husband to sit back upright, Marea still in his lap. He ran his hands along her skin and kissing her gently, soothed her down from her release. She sank into him, forehead coming to rest on his shoulder. He traced her spine, massaging the muscles surrounding it delicately with his fingers.

She moaned her approval into the side of his neck. As her breathing slowed to normal, he lifted her from himself and laid her gently back against the pillows. Her arms relaxed out lazily to her sides and she smiled, some of her hair clenching to the sweat on her face.

Allowing the woman to bask in her bliss and gather her senses, Matthew laid back down flat on his back. One knee bent upward, the other straight out beside her legs. His own erection still stood stiffly, unsatisfied. He removed the empty condom to better enjoy himself and discarded it to the floor, risk now negated.

Even with his eyes closed, when his left hand reached out, it found Marco's cock immediately. The man jumped slightly at the unexpected touch. He was still only half-hard. Matt thumbed gentle circles around the man's slit, playing the small pressures there that he knew would draw sparks.

Marco's eyes closed to the caress, allowing Matthew to control the motions unhindered. He cupped his balls, fingering soft touches from the line of the man's perineum to prod back again at his slit, using the slick beaded there to rub small motions around the head.

The young Italian was enjoying being at the bidding of another man far more than he could ever have imagined.

And as though he again read his mind, continuing his strokes, Matthew asked "Are you ready to change this up?".

"Hmm?"

Matthew turned, moving himself up from the mattress. He planted a few kisses to the other man's chest and a bite to his ear lobe as he ran his tongue along the edge of his ear.

He rose up to his knees, arching into a long stretch and then released that tension with a loud sigh. He beckoned Marco to his knees with a curling finger. The wolf shifted until he was closely beside the man. He took Marco's left hand is his and wrapped it around his body, holding it to his abdomen.

Pinning Marco's hand in place, Matthew moved and parted his legs to be fully in front of the man. He leaned back, letting his back rest against Marco's chest. "Oh..." the man emitted in hushed surprise.

 _Oh_.

Matthew had been pushy and controlling of him this entire time. He knew that for a man like Marco, dominating another man would be a fun experience. But dominating a dominant man... the excitement and power of that experience ... well that would be more addicting than any drug he could ever manufacture.

As Marco's mind realized what he was being offered, excitement pooled in his gut. And blood surged to his cock.

"Ohhoohhoo..." Marea laughed an airy moan in approval at the sight. "Well THISss is surely going to be a good show!"

Marco was overcome with the position of power and grasped Matt's shoulder in his teeth, hard. Likely not hard enough to draw blood, but deep and aggressive. Matt dipped the shoulder as though to escape the pain and drew a hissed breath through his teeth. He needed to reward the man's control. That was the purpose of this, after all.

Pressing further against Marco's chest, Matthew turned his head to purr complete submission directly into the man's ear, "I'm yours now. Use me. Mark me all you'd like." He felt the Italian's chest rise in a huge, shaky inhale as the fingers of both hands curled firmly into his flesh. The man's pupils were blown wide at the surge of excitement.

Funny how if he had told Mr. stammering 'I'm not gay' an hour ago that he'd want nothing more than to bury himself in Matt's ass hole, the man likely would have run screaming,... or shot him. And now, the dripping hardness of his erection pressed firmly against the wolf's left ass cheek.

Marco's fingernails gripped and dug into his rib cage and abdomen and dull teeth pulled small trails along his back and shoulders as Matthew palmed and stroked his own stiff length.

Drawing a frustrated huff from the man behind him, Matt quickly went forward onto his hands and knees. With a devils grin on his face, he crawled toward Marea who giggled at the attention returning to her. Marco chased the action like a predator maintaining its hold on a kill.

As Marco's hands and toothy mouth curiously explored him from behind, Marea widely splayed her legs in front of Matthew. He came to rest between them. He planted wet kisses along her legs, taking the occasional playful nip of his own.

As the two men were stationary again, the cock that had been prodding aimlessly around his rear began rubbing back and forth between his thighs, below his own dick.

Matt ignored the sensation as he leveled his face between the woman's legs. He kissed steadily closer to Marea's wet depths. His tongue finally pressed heavily onto her clitoris and wrapped to gently cradle it. Her fingers twisted tightly into his hair as she drew a long gasp.

He rocked his tongue back and forth above the small mound of it, tracing patterns around her opening. He was careful to pressure the right places without giving too much friction to the sensitive nerves. He looked up at her and made a show of wetting the middle and ring fingers of his right hand with his own mouth. She nodded and moaned a heady approval.

Returning his tongue to continue its wrapping and prodding of her folds, he slowly pressured his fingers into her wet cleft. Their presence there offering a more complete sensation than his tongue alone could. The woman wailed beneath him and her grip on his hair tightened.

Having delivered several hard bites to Matthews back, at least one of which was bleeding slightly, Marco began to curiously rub his cock along the crevasse between Matthew's ass cheeks. Signaling permission to pursue his curiosity further, Matt wordlessly tossed the bottle of lube back toward him.

A moment later, Matthew felt his cheeks being spread as the other man's lube-slicked dick explored the space. Soon the pressure was aligned with the soft skin of his entrance. The man was hesitant but pressed forward and Matthew felt the tip of the cock slide past his ring of muscle. Withdrawing only slightly, Marco pressed forward again hard, penetrating him fully in one aggressive thrust.

Matt ceased his mouth's actions against Marea and his jaw and eyes screwed themselves shut. The spear of a memory pierced his brain against his will. The first time he'd felt a man enter him so, so very long ago.

Terror. Betrayal. Pain.

He clenched the comforter hard in his left hand to ground himself. The woman before him practically screamed out at the hotness of watching her husband fuck into another man.

The sound brought him further into the present. A wave of pleasure overtook him and he groaned in earnest as Marco's dick began pounding into him.

Resuming the ministrations along Marea's slit and the strokes along his own shaft, he reveled at the fullness of Marco's cock. The combination of the actions had a heat pooling in his chest. He fought back his own need for release.

Fingers drug greedily into his hips and Marco ground into him with long, fast strokes. Small shifts in position would cause the head of the other man's cock to slip pressure against Matthew's prostate. The bliss of it struck him like warm waves of tiny sparks each time.

Marea held his hair firmly, commanding him with her finger's feedback. Her head leaned back against the pillows, but not so far that she couldn't take absolute rapture in watching one man between her legs, sucking her clit and finger fucking her with incredible precision while her husband pounded his length into another man's ass hole.

Matt could no longer close off the sounds and sensations that flooded his senses. His body screamed at him for absolution and he panted while he quickened the motions of his hand along his cock.

Finally, finally, he allowed the release. His body bucked against the man behind him as thick fluid erupted from the head of his dick, spilling onto the comforter below.

He moaned long and loud between Marea's legs, sending reverberations against her clit. It was the last nudge she needed to reach her own tipping point and she thrust her hips up against his mouth as her body quaked.

Marco's thighs steadily slapped against his as the man chased his own orgasm. Soon enough, he gave one last hard thrust and held the pressure of it forward. Hot liquid coated Matthew's insides.

Marco laughed an airy and exhausted sound.

"Holy."

Pant

"Shit."

Matthew let his legs straighten, lowering him free of the man's cock as he sank into the bed. His head rested on its side, halfway down Marea's thigh.

Marco flopped onto the bed beside them both. Smiling in the bliss of it, laughing occasionally at the ... oddness... of the situation. He couldn't believe what he'd just done.

"It's a good thing neither of us is gay," Matt mused with a half smile, closed eyes and a spent expression, "we might've gotten off on that shit." Marco laughed out loudly, the most genuinely laughter he'd seen the man exude to date.

All 3 laid there for several minutes, coming down from their successive highs. Marco scooted up closer to Marea, kissing his wife as he wrapped an arm across her bare, sweat-dampened stomach. She smirked toward him and in Italian, "Told you..." then asking through an amused, bratty grin, "Do you still wish to kill him?" Marco looked down at the other man, letting his eyes run over the naked body.

"Yes," he responded, "but I'd sure hate to lose out on the money.”

"Ha! Yeah... that's the reason." she teased as she kissed his temple.

Matthew steadied himself upright, rocking his head back and forth to loosen the muscles. "Mind if I borrow your shower?"

Marea smiled through her still blissed-out haze and pointed, "That way, sir." Matt grabbed his discarded clothing as well as the condom littering the floor and stepped toward the bathroom as he ensured his keys, wallet etc was still in place.

He flushed the rubber and showered very quickly, just washing the worst from himself and re-emerged with his pants and shoes in place, scrubbing the hotel towel across his hair before tossing it into the hamper.

He smiled at the couple who hadn't moved at all from their places in bed. "It's been a pleasure. Just let me know when you want to do this again." He waved a goodbye over his shoulder and walked out, closing the bedroom door behind him.

‘Seriously,’ Marco thought to himself again, ‘who the fuck _is_ this guy?’


	10. Slightly less domesticated... but close enough.

After the evening’s events, it seemed only fitting to choose a good Italian wine from the small collection in his apartment.

He swirled a glass of it as he stretched out in the oversized bathtub in his apartment - his second favorite feature of the place.

Laying his head back against the marble tile work behind the tub, he stared at the maroon drink in silence. No galavanting to random parks or shows or abandoned buildings tonight, he’d definitely be staying in.

He wondered what the Hayes’ were doing. It was Wednesday the 12th and Samantha’s Science Fair was today, the project he had been helping her with for only a few days when all of this undercover crap started. Feeling terrible for not being able to do more with it, he hoped everything went well today. He wanted so badly to have been there.

Closing his eyes, he wondered if they ever thought about him. It had really only been a few weeks that he had been over at their place regularly. A self-depreciating thought that ‘of course they don’t miss you’ brought a pull of a frown to his face. Why would they?

He could cross paths with people casually. Angela, for instance. But sooner or later he brought misery to everyone who shared his path for too long.

It had been foolish to see the family as often as he had really, even for that short while. They’d be better off if he stayed away. Better that it happened before anyone got attached.

He took a sip of the wine, placed the glass down and leaned forward, sitting hunched over in the tub. Reaching over his shoulder, he rubbed at the lightly swollen and raw bite marks that adorned his upper back. They’d bruise for a couple days and then be gone. He kept his arms crossing his chest, left hand perched on his right shoulder. His head leaned softly against it. 

Droplets of water ran from his hair. The sound of them seamlessly joining the bath water was the only noise in the room. He stared blankly at the water-warped image of his own feet in the tub. 

Sighing to himself in a movement that disturbed a ripple into the water around him, he resolved it would be best to finish with this undercover help and then walk away. From the department, from Brian and his family.

Maybe he should move away.

He hadn’t seen Addie in a few years, maybe he should go spend some time there.

The thoughts of where he’d go and what he’d do ran around in his mind while he toweled off, ordered some takeout and called it a night.

*****

He was scheduled to pick up the drug shipment the day after the bedroom charade. Same vacant factory as last time.

He arrived early and was the first person there. He hadn’t met with his handler to receive new camera contacts, but wore the sound wire in a different jacket. He still hid it very well. There was no misunderstanding... sex did not mean trust with these people.

Marco and the driver, a heavyset middle aged man with a combover, arrived two minutes prior to their 10am appointment. Marco seemed a bit awkward but tried to remain all business, brushing his jacket straight as he exited the passenger side of the truck. Matt couldn’t resist himself and blew him a kiss as he approached. A deep red blush crept across the Italian’s whole face.

An embarrassed glare immediately replaced the blush, growing angrier when Matthew simply laughed.

He tested the cocaine with a smear of it across his gum line. It would be suspicious if he didn’t. The drug had no effect on Matt, his body metabolized such things far too quickly, but he could analyze the chemical components better than a human could. The barely-there numbness and taste told him enough to know the drug was satisfactory. It’s not like they expected him to sample enough to get high anyway, so they wouldn’t notice the complete lack of effect.

Money was traded for goods, the exchange went without a hitch. Aside from Marco’s awkwardness, that was. This wasn’t a situation anyone lingered in, so everyone departed quickly after the drugs were loaded into Matt’s truck.

He had previously been instructed to leave the truck where his handler had designated, a busy parking garage attached to a shopping mall downtown. The police would come to retrieve it soon thereafter while he took a bus home.

Done.

He got home and flopped onto the couch, clicking on the TV. Nothing of interest grabbed his attention. It wasn’t even noon yet. He felt antsy, restless.

He pulled a cigarette from its case and made his way out onto the balcony. If coke did nothing for him, the tobacco cigarette was certainly no more effective than sucking air through some cotton balls stuck in a straw. But it posed the same lack of health risk as well since he was incapable of any disease, cancer, etc. He knew objectively that it was a gross habit, and increasingly frowned upon in society. But it was one of the very few things that dated back to his humanity, so it held a nostalgia he adored. His cravings for the sticks were entirely emotionally driven.

And as he looked down over the streets below his apartment at the the street light poles and storefronts, emotions flooded him. Christmas decorations adorned them all, as they had for weeks now. The holiday was right around the corner.

Christmas had meant nothing to him as a child. There were no gifts or celebrations in their household growing up. Their town bore decorations and his mother told him of the religious significance. So he was familiar with the concept of it, but his parents laughed at the fools who celebrated the holiday. Bringing a tree into the house was stupid, making more food than usual was wasteful and the only person who’d ever been deserving of gifts on that day was Jesus.

And Jesus certainly never never visited the house Matthew grew up in.

But his wife, Anne, and her family had an entirely different perspective. It was a time of warmth and generosity.

Joy and love and hope.

In their years together, they celebrated the holidays in earnest. Gifts, singing, candles, church, the whole nine yards. When their kids came along, it became a time Matthew never knew could bring so much happiness. Their son helping him choose a tree, their daughter helping Anne bake for the gathering when her entire family would fill their small house.

And now... now the whole holiday was like an ornate box. A box made to hold beautiful times, the brightest of joys and warmest of loves. Made to be filled to the brim with everything delicate and cherished. A box that now stood empty, it’s presence nothing more than an insult to its observer. Reminding them only of what it used to contain but never would again.

Matt’s gaze wandered over the decorations, letting smoke plume gently from his nose.

The city was buzzing with lunchtime activity. Taxis, cars and people came and went hurriedly. There was an awesome sub shop on his same block and a sizable group often gathered on their outdoor patio this time of day. A couple of teenagers had someone on a phone call and fought over who spoke to whoever was on the other end of the line. He tried to make out what they were arguing about, but a police siren around the corner was drowning them out.

His own phone buzzed on the counter behind him, breaking his train of thought. It was a reminder that the meeting with his handler was in an hour. 1pm at a coffee shop only about 15 minutes away.

If he left now, he would have time to grab some lunch on the way, so he pocketed his wallet and keys and headed out the door.

The unit handling the case he was assisting with told him they’d be keeping his personal car, the Mustang, in impound. They didn’t want the risk of the Italians or anyone else recognizing the car. Some videos had been put on social media during the van / car chase and wreck and it would be a complicated story to address.

They’d given him a black Mercedes as his daily driver while undercover instead. It was nice enough, convincing for his role. Definitely not Matt’s car of choice though. Too high brow and stuffy. Ironic that he much preferred his American made car to the German one he was sliding into.

Just as he got situated and turned the key, his phone buzzed again. Marea. She asked if Matt wanted to join them tomorrow evening for a small dinner party. Bingo, hell yeah he’d be there. Hopefully that news would be enough to negate how pissed Detective Roberts would inevitably be about having to replace the contacts he’d flushed yesterday.

Or not.

Matt ordered a black coffee before sitting at the table across from Roberts. The man did not look amused. Apparently Wright was furious about the decisions he’d made. Doug thought it might open doors but wasn’t worth the risk. Brian had flipped out and the Lieutenant barred him from the case entirely.

The fake name he’d given for the coffee was called so he went to retrieve it. Little Christmas trees adorned the cup.

He sat back down to a still annoyed detective. There was little they could do at this point though, since Matthew had successfully established a relationship, even if it wasn’t the relationship they wanted it to be. Roberts asked if any new information had been discovered during the -rest- of his “meeting” with the Italians the prior day. Matt bit back a smile, “Nothing relevant to the case, no.”

Roberts slid a new pair of contacts across to him. Since he’d been without them for this morning’s delivery, the cop asked him to describe the driver who’s voice they’d heard. Matt did so, giving every identifying detail. The newcomer likely wouldn’t be a particularly important element, but a criminal suspect just the same.

The invitation to Friday’s get-together may not make up for his actions, but Roberts was still very happy to hear it. They didn’t know the nature of the event at all yet, but hopefully other people of interest to the investigation would be present. Matthew promised repeatedly through the hushed conversation that he would keep the contacts in place no matter what.

“And I mean it, Mr Weber. No one wants to watch whatever it is you’re doing. BUT, we’re all fucking adults. Identifying people, things or places you see could mean all the difference to the case.”

“For the last damn time, Oliver, I’ll leave them in.”

“Good,” he kept an intense expression that he meant business, “Call me as soon as you know more information about the event.” He nodded and walked out, leaving Matthew alone with his festive cup of coffee.

He sipped at it for a while, watching people come and go from the busy shop. When Marea had texted earlier, he confirmed that he would go, but hadn’t asked any details. He reached out to her now.

“So, where is this event? Attire?”

“It’s just a little holiday get-together. The Westwood Gallery, 7pm.”

Black-tie, then. “Perfect, see you then.”

The afternoon was still early and was it was a gorgeous sunny day despite a bit of a chill. Matt decided to walk the downtown shopping area for a while.

The stores ranged as they do in all cities from high-end department stores to small art galleries and tourist stuff. He needed to visit a tailor. He had some decent suits here in LA, but no suitable tuxedo. Looking up somewhere that should offer what he needed on his phone, he headed in that direction.

He stopped in front of a toy store loudly plastered with kid’s Christmas gift ideas. Mostly the latest trendy gadget that would be forgotten within a few weeks. Something caught his eye though, so he ventured inside. Shipping a box anonymously from the post office should be safe.

Finding a good liquor store, he picked up the best bottle of scotch he could find for whoever the host would be tomorrow night. He hadn’t asked, didn’t want to appear to be prying. Finally off to the tailor.

*****

“Just a little holiday get-together, huh?” he teased Marea. The gallery was full. Not quite to the point of being uncomfortable or difficult to move around in, but close. Festive decorations were everywhere and many of the guests had holiday elements to their attire, but the formality had been strongly adhered to. 

“Mmhmm! Come,” she beckoned, looping her arm through his. That mischievous spark was still present, “I’ll introduce you!” She whisked him away to a nearby cocktail table.

The host was a local artist, Abigail VanSant. Much of the work on display was hers. Apparently Marco knew the artist’s boyfriend well. Matt was introduced to the couple as well as several others around the small building.

Marea leaned into him as they made their way around, “Its good to see you again, by the way. You look positively dashing.”

His dark grey jacket and pants contrasted well with the black peak lapel and white dress shirt. The bow tie and pocket square -expertly set in a four peak fold- were a bright, almost metallic green. It fit in perfectly with the holiday theme. 

“Thank you. And you... you put every woman here to shame.” The compliment was a bit much, but her long, flowy red gown was gorgeous. “I do find you most perfect without a dress in the way, however.”

She blushed slightly and puffed a short giggle through her nose as she looked around sheepishly, though he had made sure no one would overhear them. “You’re quite the dog, Mr Weber.” she teased as she squeezed his arm.

“ _Slightly_ less domesticated.” he quipped, “But close enough.”

It didn’t take long before someone pulled Marea away to ask her input on something. Alone for the moment, Matthew took the opportunity to study the artwork.

Large canvases displayed bold use of color and good spacial juxtaposition. He liked the work. He stood in front of a piece with vibrant shapes and splashes. A woman strolled up beside him and he glanced down to recognize her as the artist. Marea’s introduction to her had been brief, so he still knew very little of her. 

“What do you think of it?” she asked delicately.

He stared at the canvas a moment longer before responding, still facing the artwork, “I’m fascinated with this one. The strokes of emotion playing like they’re chaos, at odds with the order and definition of the forms. A rebellion against the conformation.”

Seemingly a bit surprised by his reply, her eyebrows both rose along with the center of her lower lip as the edges curves downward. “I love that,” she started as she too looked back at the painting. “I feel like everyone sees something different in this piece. I went through a bad break up midway through it actually. My life definitely took a turn for the chaotic, interesting that it shows through to you.” She laughed as she admitted the last part.

“Well, at least the ex contributed to your art.” Matt replied with a soft smile. He took a large, obvious inhale to change the tone, “So your boyfriend that’s here... Caleb, was it? Is he the one responsible for that one?” Matt pointed to the next painting over. Two very vaguely human like forms interwove in an erotic tangle. The piece was far too impressionistic to be explicit, but the suggestion of passion was there.

The woman laughed out and blushed. He was on a roll with that these days, apparently. “I guess I would have to give him credit for that one.” her smile reached her eyes, genuine and sweet.

“Good. I’m glad for the happier... inspiration.” He smiled back to her. “So, what does Caleb do?”

She seemed quite excited at the opportunity to be discussing him. “Real estate! He loves it. Keeps him busy and he’s really good at it. He sold your friend Marco a couple places, actually.”

“Oh? Shame on Marco for not mentioning it. Businesses or property sales?” ... this could be very interesting.

“He calls them ‘junk property’. It’s kind of his specialty really.” She continued on, no concerns for what she was giving away. Clearly this girl didn’t have any idea of the company her boyfriend kept. “Old industrial areas that need to be overhauled, that sort of thing. They just closed on one south side of town the other week. Some former brick factory.” Matt knew just the place. Huge and well concealed.

“Fascinating. Many opportunities in those places sometimes.” ‘...Many, and varied’, he kept to himself.

“Definitely! I hope they make good money on the purchase.”

Someone approached her to ask about a painting, so she politely excused herself, “Thanks for the conversation, Mr....” she had forgotten his name and look mortified to realize it. “Weber.” He supplied. “Matthew Weber.”

“Sorry... Hope you enjoy the event, Mr Weber!”

He nodded politely as she turned to go. She seemed like a nice kid. He hoped the boyfriend was as clueless as she was.

He soon discovered, she had no such luck.

In the brief conversation they had when Matt cornered him alone with, he was edgy and evasive when asked about anything deeper than surface level “real estate” questions. Matt didn’t get anything helpful out of him and before he could raise the guy’s suspicions, he wandered elsewhere.

Keeping mental note of who Marco or Marea interacted with the most, he made a point to spend some time with those people. Nothing really jumped out, but you never knew what could come if it down the road.

As the evening wore on and the place began to thin out, he found the Italian couple outside with Caleb and Abigail at the small bistro style table. Marco was nearing drunkenness, and hung onto Marea like the approaching wolf was going to drag her away then and there. 

Matt produced an old-fashioned cigarette case from his jacket and offered any to the others at the table by raising his brows and gesturing the opened tin forward in his hand. Caleb accepted, holding one between his lips as he patted his pockets looking for a lighter. Matt stopped his search quickly, “Here, allow me.”, and produced his zippo. He held the flame steady for the man to draw a few puffs before withdrawing it to light his own.

Abigail seemed tired, entertaining so many people for an evening was draining work. But her chipper attitude was still present. She looked between Matthew and the Italians and innocently asked, “So how did you guys meet?”

Allowing no time for anyone else to answer or for Abigail to see Caleb’s instantly concerned face, Marea spoke up. “Matt is an investor! As we expand into the area, he’s providing us some important feedback and direction. Helping us grow our plans here.” An expertly crafted technical truth.

“Oh wow!” The artist faced Matt to address him directly, “So are you going to help them decide when to do with that old brick yard?”

“Hmm, I don’t really know yet,” he replied, “We haven’t discussed specific use for real estate, but it’s something I’m happy to help them with. Property management is right up my alley.” Another technical truth.

“Ah, ok. So Marea, do you guys plan to build something new there? Or restore it to function for other factory use? It’s such a cool old space! I’d totally go there just for the painting inspiration.” The questions she asked were sweet in their cluelessness.

Her boyfriend held his upper lip firmly between his teeth for a second before interjecting with a snarky tone. “Babe, it’s not really polite to make them talk about that stuff.”

“Oh. Oh I’m sorry.” She said sheepishly. “I was just trying to make conversation.”

“Well you’re not. It’s prying into stuff that’s none of your business.” he shot back with a condescending glare.

Her expression sank. It was clear she suddenly felt like the idiot of the group. “You’re right, I’m sorry again,” she tried to maintain her grace, “I’m going to go see to the remaining guests...” She excused herself hurriedly as she walked away.

Few things irritated Matthew more than when people make those who love them feel small. Jaw clenched tight, he held his tongue.

Forcing a smile in Abigail’s absence, Marea said “Really, it’s fine. She’s just trying to be sweet.” Caleb rolled his eyes, “Yeah. Sweet gets old faster than you think.”

Marco took the opportunity to rib his wife. Looking at her through a alcohol haze, he smiled and said “I wouldn’t know” before failing to dodge her playful slap to his chest.

Caleb took an inhale of the almost burned-out cigarette, a bit calmer without the girlfriend there. “So...” he motioned with it in his hand generically between Matthew and the Italians. “I assume ‘investor’ actually means the obvious here?”

Making sure they were still alone and out of earshot of anyone, Marco nodded, “We’ve had some good business deals so far, yeah.”

“Just one product?”

Finishing his cigarette, Matt mashed the end out and flicked the butt into a nearby trash can. “For now.” He leaned back against the brick front of the building. “But I’ve been very happy with Marco and Marea’s product and guidance. If they recommended something else, I’d be up for entertaining other endeavors. With their involvement, ideally.”

It was a calculated move and Marco took the bait gladly. Happy for the praise and trust, he suggested the 4 of them should return to their place to discuss what Caleb had in mind. He was juuust drunk enough not to worry that he had asked Matthew over to his actual house, no hotel rooms this time.

Perfect.  
412 Axon Avenue  
They’d all meet there shortly, after Caleb “ditched the girlfriend for a couple hours.”

Matt still wanted to punch the guy. It was her first major gallery showing. Cause for celebration and deserving of pampering. And he was thrilled to shrug it off to go talk fucking drugs. Douche. He grit his teeth but turned away to head to the car.

The Vincenzo home was large but still simpler than Matt was expecting. Nice, but more lived in and humble than their outward showy efforts would indicate. They dismissed the security guard who awaited them at the doorway of the home. Marea swayed the slightest bit and drawled out when the guard questioned the choice, “We’ve got it covered. It’s just friends talking shop”. The man eyed Matt particularly suspiciously, but submitted to the direction and left.

They finally sat down around the table, harder booze now in the mix. Caleb spoke quietly, even in the confines of the home. Marco and Matt, seated beside one another shared an interested glance when the man began to explain his thoughts.

And boy, did he have some good thoughts. He dropped an absolute gold mine into their ears, and those of the police investigation unit monitoring the conversation intently.

Apparently Marco had sent a top buyer named Larry to Caleb about his ‘need for some real estate’ several months back. He had been a steady buyer for a while but kept everything strictly professional, never having told Marco anything about himself or his utilization of the cocaine. Marco understandably just assumed he was selling it. 

The man had purchased a smallish warehouse through Caleb, still in great condition and working order. The coke he was buying from the Italians was being used to manufacture something far more “interesting”, as Caleb put it. He had tried the cocktail drug a few weeks ago and claimed it would be a massive hit. He said the guy was a chemistry whiz but needed investor and dealer hookups.

The conversation moved quickly and within a half an hour, the chemist was on his way to the house as well.

Samples were had, plans were hashed and after securing his name, address and information, a deposit was wired from Matt’s bank account.

The 4 increasingly drunk and high humans and 1 lupine faking it enough to fit in partied harder as the meeting became more social than business. Sweating with the effects of the substance, Marea retreated to the bedroom to change out of the party dress. The men had already loosened or discarded their ties and jackets.

When she re-emerged, she wore a revealing nightgown and the drugs seemed to have hit her even harder. She sat down in Marco’s lap, nearly falling off and began gyrating across the tops of his legs, giving him a sloppy lap dance. The man blushed deeply but was too high himself and immediately too turned on to stop her. He laughed toward the ceiling as she hung onto him.

Simultaneously the three other men all exchanged identical looks that it was clearly time to go. Caleb was swaying but clear enough in his mind to blurt out that his girlfriend was asking him to get home, and he practically ran out of the place.

The chemist (Larry) laughed that “Yeah, that seems to be a common effect of this stuff”. He and Matthew, who had taken the least amount of the drug, shook hands, each telling the other they looked forward to doing business together. Matthew was given some additional samples to try at a later time as well.

Both made to leave and Marco had the presence to understand he and his wife were being impolite. He reluctantly shoved Marea off of him to show them out. Before Matt could follow Larry as he walked away however, Marea grabbed his arm.

“Mmm, Naaah. Not fin’shd with you quiiite yet”, she slurred as she pulled him in for a deep kiss. Her right hand slid down to grope him through the front of his pants. Marco grumbled and his wife’s hand slapped his chest. “Shush. You s‘ure do ‘mplain a lot for some someone who had SO much FUN lass’ime.” She started kissing Matt again, pulling him with her by the front of his pants toward the table. Her husband huffed back into his chair. 

She continued standing there, kissing him for a moment with only a “Mmmmm...” and then suddenly excited, she withdrew her head but kept staring at Matt’s eyes, “Ooh, ooh,” while waving a pointed finger at Marco, “Can’u f-fuck him nis time?!” Barely within his senses enough to understand what had been asked, Marco’s eyes rounded with concern as he failed to mumble coherent objections quickly. He was turning an extra shade or two whiter with each breath.

Matt barked a “Ha!” at both the question and the man’s terrified reaction. “No, nooo, that’s not how that kind of thing works.” Marco’s relief was palpable as his color began to returned to normal.

“I tell you what,” Matt said while taking Marea’s hand in his, “I’m going to bow out this time,” he brought the back of her hand to his lips to press a gentle kiss to it, “but I promise to make it up to you next time.”

The woman seemed annoyed with the rejected ideas. “But whyyyyyy?” she pleaded, pouting like a kid who’d been told they couldn’t have the dessert already on the counter.

He considered his answer for a moment, and with a half-smile, settled on honesty being the best option. “Because you’re both wasted.” He took a step back and after a gentle squeeze, he released her hand. “I’ll do a lot of things. But sex with anyone who’s judgement is clouded isn’t on the list.” It was the truth. Loosening up with a couple drinks was one thing. Incapable of clear thoughts was a line he wouldn’t cross, no matter the gain.

“ _Clouded_ , pff,” she tried to mock his tone, “‘M not clouded, I jus’ want that,” she closed the distance he’d created, hooking her arm behind his neck and whispering directly into his ear, “I want ‘nother show. ‘S’all.”

He uncurled himself and gave her a peck on the cheek. Looking to Marco, his expression successfully conveyed that it was his turn to curb the determined woman. He’d just been sitting there blankly but Matt’s eyes spurred the man to action. “Hey babe, let ‘m go home.” He rose and placed his arms around her shoulders as a hug that also limited her motions. He attempted a look of seduction but fell short, landing on drunken hooded eyes and a toothy smile, “Its all you ‘n me tonight.” It worked well enough however as she leaned into him and they began making out again.

Practically tip-toeing backwards, Matt waved goodbye to Marco. He escaped out the door as the Italian couple swayed, dancing poorly to no music at all.

*****

“Hey, Sam? Come down here babe. You got something in the mail.”

“Coming, dad!” She bounced down the stairs, knowing Christmas was only a few days away. Sending a kid a package in the mail that time of the year that WASN’T a gift should be against the law. “Is it from grandpa Hayes?!” Brian’s dad, who lived all the way over in Florida.

“Nope, not sure who it’s from. No return address.” Brian pulled the medium size box closer in front of him as she entered the kitchen, giving her an exaggerated teasing look. “That’s awfully suspicious though, a mystery sender... I think I should take it to the department first actually...”

The girl jumped and made a grab for the box, giggling at her father’s fake threat, “But it has my name on it!” more grabbing as he held it into the air in a keep-away game, Katelyn laughed as she watched the two chase each other around the kitchen island. “Isn’t mail theft a felony, Officer Hayes?” The girl threw him a glare through squinted eyes.

Laughing at her comeback, “I’ve created my own worst enemy!”

Finally rewarding his daughter’ efforts, Brian eventually handed her the box as Katelyn held out the handle-end of the scissors with an eye-roll, teasing “You two are just too much!”

As Samantha took to carefully but hurriedly cutting through the tape that secured the box, Katelyn stepped right beside Brian. They weren’t sure, but they had an idea of who the box may have come from.

Their daughter asked about him every single day. She understood the concept of undercover work and why it would be dangerous for all of them if Matt was seen with a police officer’s family. But she was frustrated when there were no updates, and it showed how attached she already was to him.

It had been discussed at length between the two of them that letting Sam get attached to Matt might be dangerous. Putting aside the fact that it was odd and a bit creepy for an 11 year old girl to have an adult man as a friend, they really felt he didn’t pose any physical danger to her. More likely, quite the opposite. Samantha’s grandmother also seemed adamant that she saw nothing but kindness in the man. But he was still basically a stranger to them all, and Brian had more and more doubts the longer they viewed his undercover actions about whether he really should trust this guy around his young daughter.

But life was complicated sometimes, and they both felt he had genuinely good intentions toward them all. Watching their excited kid now, the parents each side-hugged one another, her head on his shoulder as his arm draped her waist. And they silently hoped for the best.

Her eyes sparkled huge with joy when she pulled the beautifully made plush wolf out of the box. She grinned from ear to ear, squealing “Mom, dad!! It’s from Matthew, it has to be!!! He didn’t forget me!!” She hugged the stuffed animal tightly.

“Is there a card?” Katelyn asked. As Sam dug around the paper padding in the box, “Umm, let me see.... Ooh! Yes, here it is!” She began reading out loud:

” _Samantha,_

_I’m so sorry I couldn’t be there to give this to you myself. I thought of you when I saw it and even though I know you’re too old for stuffed animals, I though you might enjoy having it._

_Please tell your parents hello for me and I wish you all a Merry Christmas._

_\- Matthew”_

The kid’s Christmas list had asked for a normal variety of presents every 11 year old asks for. But Brian doubted anything they bought would get the greeting this stuffed animal did. She examined it head to toe, pointing out little details as she went. She held it out in full, “What should I name it?!” and started immediately rattling of a list of options to herself.

They couldn’t know how long Matthew struggled with what to write. How final of a goodbye it should be and how to sign the last words. ‘Love, Matthew’ would come across to cringey, despite it being the truth. He loved the girl the moment she was born, not that any of them would ever know that.

He settled on short and light. He didn’t want to bring a dark cloud over the holiday by alluding that she wouldn’t be seeing him again. A jab of pain hit his chest when he envisioned she might not even care at all anyway. She could roll her eyes, think it was a dumb gift and throw it away for all he knew. But the money was already spent and as he’d stood in the post office with the card, he figured it wasn’t like it could hurt anything either way.


	11. Zombie Rat

The thing about the weeks leading up to Christmas is that they permeate everything like a strong smell. To most people, it smells like great things. Cookies, pine trees and peppermint.

But if you’re unfortunate enough to be one of the people who hate or become depressed by the holiday, it’s sour and inescapable. The signs and flash, songs, tv shows and discussion are a constant reminder. Like a metaphorical dead rat trapped between the walls of a house.

For the latter crowd, you can either tear your house apart and make matters worse.... or suck it up and wait it out. Eventually the stench will go away on its own.

It was around 4pm on Christmas Eve and Matthew had hardly left his bed all day. He couldn’t get drunk or high easily. It took exponentially more of anything to affect his system than it would for a human, and lasted a fraction of the time. But if he drank a large bottle of a strong booze every few hours, he could hold a buzz. This new ‘Everclear’ stuff tasted horrible, but at 190 proof and easily found, it did the trick well enough. He was on his 4th bottle now. A few unopened boxes of the stuff were stacked in the living room.  


He eyed the ‘samples’ Larry had given him. They were small and blue, individually wrapped in clear plastic. Maybe if he took all 5 he could pass out for a few hours. Frowning with a huff though, he decided against it. The police would need it for analysis, and getting high wasn’t something he cared to resort to. Instead he grabbed a cigarette and stepped to the balcony, bottle in the other hand.

The thin layer of clouds kept the temperature at a pleasant enough 55 or so degrees. Matt was wearing nothing but some boxers and a thin T-shirt though, and a chill ran down his spine whenever the breeze would pick up. He briefly returned to the living room to grab the light throw blanket off the couch. It a grey ombré color, oversized and fuzzy.

After finishing his cigarette, he downed the rest of the bottle of alcohol and curled up on the balcony’s chaise lounge, staring out at the skyline. The city was much quieter than usual, most people currently with family and loved ones. He closed his eyes and with the assistance of the buzz, he dozed off.

It was a glorious two hours of nothingness. 

When he awoke, the sky was darkening into evening. The buzz was gone, replaced with the closest he came to a hangover: a small headache and a sour stomach. Didn’t help that he hadn’t eaten anything all day. 

Yawning as he sat upright, he filled his cheeks with air and then spit it out in a sharp puff. Food. Food should happen.   


If the tradition for most people who celebrated the holiday was ham or turkey, potatoes, green beans, etc.... the same tradition could also be said about people who didn’t celebrate the holiday. Chinese food. Beef and broccoli, shrimp fried rice and egg drop soup were his comfort food. 

He stared for a few moments at the horizon, letting out a groan that was more growl than anything else. His stomach growled back. Chuckling out loud at the perfect timing, “Fine, you win,” he laughed down toward the demanding presence.

Trading the throw blanket for his jacket, he pocketed his cell phone and keys.  


As he opened the apartment door though, he stopped short. He’d almost tripped over a brown paper grocery bag that stood directly in front of his doorway. It’s top was folded over and it bore only the logo of the local grocery chain.

He eyed it suspiciously for a moment before looking up and down the hallway to determine whether this was left for him specifically or maybe the work of a blanketed Christmas offering. Random church group or neighbors sometimes passed things out. His seemed to be the only door adorned with the bag though. Maintaining his distrust of the item, he plucked it from the hallway and brought it into the apartment, postponing his exit as he closed the door. 

Maybe he was still more buzzed than he thought. It took him far too long to realize it was from the Hayes family, though it contained no signature on the generic card.

Sugar cookies shaped like Christmas trees, snowflakes and horses (because, 11 year old girl) greeted him. Each was lovingly hand decorated in bright colors. Some with determined and practiced skill, others seemingly by excited kid hands. Those were a bit less uniform and coated in way more sprinkles.

The brown bag also contained Tupperwares filled with turkey, stuffing, potatoes, etc.

Matthew stared at the contents, now laid out across his kitchen counter top. He was glad no one was there to see his silent roller coaster of emotion as he processed this. A Rolodex of joy, pain, gratefulness, anger, love and emptiness went ‘round and round in his heart. It spun like a hamster wheel, fueled by a decaying zombie rat.

*****

Christmas morning came and went, the afternoon dragging along. The turkey was a bit dry (isn’t everyone’s?) but fantastic, as was the rest of the food. There was still some left after a couple meals of it. It had been an incredibly touching and appreciated surprise. Matt drank far less today than he had yesterday.

He nibbled at a horse shaped cookie while he watched an old French film. They were always weird enough to take his mind off things. The subtitles were permanently affixed though and it drove his brain crazy to hear and understand the French but read the (not always accurate) translation in English. Frustrating as it was, the struggle held his attention for the entire movie.

When it finally ended, he accepted that the movie sucked but at least it had wasted a couple hours.

He wouldn’t see Shepherd again for a couple days, the cop was out of town visiting family for the holiday. Surely good intel would have come out of his time during and after the gallery show. Larry had introduced a whole different scheme they might or might not have even known existed.

On one hand, he was happy he might’ve discovered valuable information. On the other hand, he hoped it wouldn’t drag out the investigation and his role in it. He was ready to be done with it.

Shifting on the couch to access his phone. He shot a quick email to Addie telling her Merry Christmas, he hoped she was well, etc. He wasn’t sure how long it’d been since he talked to her.

The email must have come as a big surprise to her too. She called him within five minutes of hitting send.

He smiled as he answered the phone, knowing she was probably worried. “Hey sis, how are ya?”

“Hey! Merry Christmas!” Even within just the few words she sounded hesitant but happy to hear his voice.

It was great to hear hers as well. Her German accent was heavy as always, gutteral but velvety and poetic. He had worked very hard to rid his voice of the same, but found hers beautiful. It filled him with nostalgia. “Yeah, same to you. How have you been? Where are ya these days?”

“Still in Bayern. I love the view here too much to leave it for long,” she laughed. She was serious though. The views from her place there were breathtaking. “How about you? We haven’t spoken in years!”

Had it really been years? Far too long, regardless. “I know, didn’t have a phone for a while, sorry. I’m ok though. Still in the US, Los Angeles currently though I doubt I’ll be here much longer. I was thinking of coming to see you actually, in a couple months.”

Thrilled to hear the last part, the concern left her voice momentarily. “Really? You should! I’d love to have you here for a while.” Pausing to wonder why he might need the visit, she continued, “Is everything really ok though? I worry about you Matt.”

They knew each other better than anyone else on the planet did. They’d lived in the same house growing up, experienced the horrors that happened there and deeply understood the events that molded them both.She was a little over two years younger than him but both had died and were turned around the same time. So she still looked like the same little sister she had always been to him. And being a wolf, she knew the struggles of that as well.

For those reasons, he trusted her more than anyone else. He could tell her anything and she would understand. To protect her from the bullshit that so often happened in his life though, he told no one else about her. No human especially. She lived her life and he lived his, usually an unintentional half a world apart.

Talking about deeper stuff rarely happened though. It would be a depressing broken record. Opting for simplicity, he addressed her worries. “Yeah, about the usual. I spent some time fixing up the place in Idaho, then just traveled a bit.”

“Anything interesting?”

He cleared his throat. “No, not really. I’ve got some stuff I’m working on here but don’t imagine it’ll take more than another few weeks to wrap up.”

“How’s LA?”

Only partly joking while sitting up to retrieve the bottle of Everclear he’d been nursing, he replied “If most of the people weren’t here, it would be a great place.”

She knew when to pry and when not to. “Ha, yeah, that’s true about everywhere I think.”

He loved that she could take a subtle hint. Still wanting to catch up though, he countered the questions. “Anything new in your life? Seeing anyone?”

“Ehh, I’ve dated a guy on and off for a bit. He’s in Poland a lot so I don’t see him super often. It’s nothing serious but he’s a nice guy....Good company. My work has been crazy. We’ve got a new place opening in Italy and it’s going to be gorgeous. Uhh...” She paused to think of whether there was anything else worth adding. “The town here has quadrupled since you’ve last been here, it’s awesome. Do you really think you’ll come see me?”

“What’s his name?” ... big brother mode withstood the test of time.

She laughed at his dismissal of everything else. “Peter.” Reassuring again, “he’s nice, but it’s nothing serious. Honest.”

The frown was evident in his voice, “Mmmm...... fine. If you insist. But if he hurts you I’ll kill him.

“Yeah, ok,” she snorted. “Death penalty for normal relationship problems sounds totally fair.” She knew he meant like hurt hurt, but wanted to harass him anyway. “If you really do come, maybe you’ll meet him!”

“Change of plans for sure. I’ll be moving to Japan.”

“Har, har. For real though, please come see me?”

“I will. Promise.”

They both fell quiet for a moment. She finally spoke up. “Hey, really, it’s great to hear from you... I know you got tired of me saying it, but I’m here to talk if you ever need me ok? Doesn’t matter what about. I’m here.”

He sighed and remained silent for a moment. “I know. Thanks,” a couple more beats passed as he played with the label on the liquor bottle, “I’ll let you know when I’m ready to leave here. I’m looking forward to it.”

“Good, me too. Take care of yourself in the meantime, Matt. I love you.”

The words warmed him, a small smile drawing at his mouth. “I love you too, Addie. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Matt. Talk to you soon!”

With a simultaneous “Bye,” they both hung up. He took a stout swig of the drink and sat up to stretch. “Fucking Peter...” he muttered to himself. 

It was way too early to call it a night, so he decided to go out. Almost everything was closed for the holiday of course so he just walked along as the sky began to darken into evening. It was chilly out, but nothing a light jacket couldn’t make tolerable.

He rarely chose the same path twice. Sometimes he’d have a destination in mind, but more often than not it was totally a random mystery as to where he’d end up. He passed a couple kids on brand new bikes, presents from that morning presumably. They raced one another up and down a side street, the winner’s victory dance illuminated only by the moon and street lights. 

An older couple argued beside their car, something about forgetting to pack a couple gifts and the unintentionally targeted family members being offended. That had to be frustrating.

Crossing into downtown, the sidewalk Matthew was following led straight to a huge, old church. The grey stone architecture was ornate and massive, it’s spires towering above the sidewalk. Large granite steps led to the tall, carved wooden doors. Simple but elegant wreaths decorated the wooden entranceways.

With no goal in mind, Matt ascended the steps to enter the structure. It felt even bigger inside than it had appeared from the sidewalk. The cathedral ceilings were a cavern of archways and pillars and the looming stained glass windows were intricate depictions of biblical figures and their stories. It was a feat of artwork and engineering in its day.

An obligatory giant wooden cross and the figure adorning it hung on the far wall, demanded the focal point of the main open space. Beneath it, a sea of flickering candles blanketed the offertory space. Matthew stood at the center of the main entry aisle for several moments before choosing a pew close to the front of the room. He sat in silence and let his eyes wander across the ornate and symbolic scene. 

He lost track of time, but it had to have been at least an hour that he had been sitting there silently. A few other people had come and gone. Praying, lighting candles, needing to confess.

A priest, wearing a well loved robe and a welcoming smile sat beside him, unprompted. Matt glanced briefly at him but both men continued to sit in silence for several minutes. The newcomer quietly cleared his throat after a while, signaling his interest in speaking. Matt glanced again, merely an acknowledgement, but left the other man to create his own words.

His face was weathered with age, the wrinkles of his eyes highlighting his warm, experienced smile. “Do you have a relationship with God, my son?” It was hopeful and kind. 

Maintaining his forward stare, Matt spoke flatly. “God and I have a... sordid past.”

“Mmm,” the man nodded a few times, “I see.” He quieted again in thought before resuming. “Countless reasons bring people to this place. But at its most basic form, they all come seeking one thing. ...Hope. There is no worse loneliness than the separation from hope.”

Matthew dropped his chin to stare at his own hands. “True words, father.” Taking a long, quiet sigh he released the breath and toyed his teeth together for a moment, “Hope is something I abandoned long ago.”

“Hope is never lost though. It lives always in God. We need only to seek him to find it.”

He’d been expecting the textbook answer, but appreciated the effort all the same. The man couldn’t know Matt’s situation. He dryly sniffled and shifted his gaze back to the candles flickering steadily on the altar. Speaking slowly and softly, he finally replied.

“If Satan had a son, what would God do with him? Would he be welcomed as a child of God, no matter his true lineage and upbringing, like any other...judged independently from his father’s sins. Or would the son of the anti-Christ be cast from the hope of grace, damned for eternity by the actions of his father?”

The old priest considered his question carefully. It was an unusual concern, no doubt. “God knows our hearts, son. Yours, and everyone else’s, will be judged as yours alone.”

Matt frowned. “Well that’s a shame to hear.” He stood abruptly and took a side-step to remove himself from between the wooden benches, pausing in the aisle to meet the old man’s eyes. “I really hoped to blame it on my father.” 

With that, the wolf nodded once and strode evenly back toward the giant wooden doors to exit. The priest called out behind him as he continued walking, “Hope is never lost! Come back and see me please, I’d love to help you find it.”

Matt called over his shoulder without pausing, “I’m afraid it would be a waste of your time father, but thank you for the efforts. Merry Christmas.” He reached the doors as he finished the sentence and walked out without looking back. 


	12. Sir, we need to go.

Shepherd’s leg bounced with anticipation as Matthew made his way across the bar to where he was seated. A half empty Corona stood in front of the cop. Some redness and dry skin around his nose looked sore as he fidgeted with a tissue in his left hand. The holiday trip seemed to have left him with an unwanted gift.

That didn’t dampen his mood however as the man smiled excitedly when his counterpart slid behind the opposite side of the table after retrieving his own drink, a good Whiskey on the rocks, from the bartender.

The shorter man was eager to speak. “Dude, that was fucking amazing.” The watery eyes gave some extra sparkle as his nasal voice continued, “Wright was thrilled. Do you have any idea how much it takes to get Wright excited?”

“Drugs and an international threesome?”

Shepherd couldn’t resist the laugh he emitted, though Matt felt a bit guilty when it turned into a coughing spell before he could speak. Regaining control, he replied “Yeah, I guess.” He kept a toothy grin as he shook his head facing down at the table. “Well, tactics aside, this is a huge breakthrough. Caleb has a history but just minor drug possession shit. This should get him on abetting, red handed. And the other guy? Larry? Ooof.... we’ve been finding those blue pills for months with no idea where they were coming from. Now that you’ve given us a name and face behind them, we’ve dug up so much shit on the dude he has his own white board at the precinct.”

“Awesome. I’ve been hoping all of that had connected some dots.” It was frustrating to be playing such a large role in the events and yet be so out of the loop. “So what now?”

“A bit of patience. We don’t want anything to seem rushed or suspicious.” He daubed at his dripping nose and gave the wolf an apologetic glance, “Sorry... this shit ‘s everywhere this time of year.”

Matt shrugged, “It’s fine. I can’t get sick.”

“Really? Like, ever?” He looked amazed. Funny how people could see you come back from the dead and still be surprised to hear you can’t catch a common cold.

“Yep.” Knowing people tended to get jealous about stuff like this, the little things, he tried to contribute some empathy. “I was human before though, so it’s not like I’ve never been sick. It’s just been a while.” He smiled at the other man, hoping it would be the end of the matter. He kicked himself internally for mentioning it.

The cop definitely still looked perplexed but they both knew not to spend more time together than necessary. He narrowed his eyes a bit in thought. “Fascinating. ...Anyway,” he changed his inflection back to business, “We’re in a holding pattern for now. Don’t rush anything. Eventually, we hope you’ll find a way into where Larry is operating. Once we’ve confirmed some suspicions there, we’ll try to take the whole lot of ‘em down at once.”

Working slowly was the last thing he wanted to do, but Matt knew it wasn’t going to be a quick process when he’d agreed to it. “Sounds good,” he replied.

“Good work getting out of the situation last time, by the way. Hopefully you’ll be able to avoid that ...stuff.. going forward. Either way though, contacts and wire still. Any time you’ll be seeing them.”

Knowing there was zero chance of avoiding further sexual interactions but no reason to discuss it now, he dodged the topic completely. “Sure thing.”

“Great. Just shoot me a text if you communicate with them at all.” The cop finished his drink in one long chug and stood to leave.

“Will do,” stopping him before he walked away though he added, “Oh Hey! Tell Brian thanks... He’ll know what for.”

Wiping his nose as he nodded and headed out, “Sure, no problem.”

*****

Marco toyed with the twisted piece of thin bamboo that skewered the remaining two olives in his Martini. It was cut to a point on one end and tied in a basic knot at the other.  
The olives at this place weren’t as good as the ones Marea bought, and it sullied the whole drink.

The dancers weren’t half bad though, and it was Caleb’s favorite place to come for a drink and a show. Mirrors lined every wall and the ceiling of the strip club and each section of the three-part stage contained a classic silver pole.

A woman stretched out toward Caleb from the pole closest to him. Her dark skin was flawless and toned.

The attire of the dancers was all identical in color, a deep crimson red. Their garments themselves varied though. Most wore barely-there triangle bikini tops and mini string thongs. One wore a lacy bustier with garters that held up matching fishnet stalkings, another a strappy halter top and thong set. Caleb’s favorite, the one currently bending forward to display all of her cleavage in front of his face, wore a cage pattern network of straps that criss-crossed most of her body.

Splashes of the same red color were placed as design elements all over the bar. The counter tops, the decorative filigree on the chairs and floor. Marco used a napkin of the color to dab the drop of condensation that had dripped from the base of his glass onto his blue collared shirt.

As the dancer in the strappy ensemble finished her dance, Caleb finally regarded his friend. “So, this Matthew guy... do you know much about him?”

Marco subconsciously grit his teeth slightly at the mention of the man’s name. “Not much. His sales are good. He’s fucking loaded.”

“You’re taking a pretty big risk opening up connections to Larry with him. You sure you can trust him?” His friend’s expression was of legitimate concern. They’d known each other for a few years and become close.

Plucking the next olive from the bamboo spike, Marco replied honestly. “No. You never really know, I guess. They could try to do some shit behind my back. Partner up.” The right side of his mouth gathered in a partial frown before his expression dismissed the concern, “But I guess that’s just the risk of the game.”

Caleb didn’t look reassured. “You sure he’s not a cop?”

At that, the Italian chuffed. “Yeah, no... he’s definitely no cop.”

“Well that was confident,” his friend mused, “How can you be so sure?”

The image that came to mind was a sliver of blood. It traced the indent his own teeth had made in the man in question’s lower left shoulder. Marco would sooner die than confess any aspect of that evening to his friend.

He’d also never confess even to himself that the memory caused his dick to stir more than any of the women on the stage had yet that evening.

“Mostly intuition. But he’s got a stout foreign account, a hard one to bullshit. And he knows his way around some shit.”

Another dancer entered the stage in front of them, gripping the pole behind her knee as she bent over her back, stretching in an extreme arch upside-down toward the stage. Her huge chest pushed the limits of the narrow fabric containing it, pillowing out the sides.

A waitress wearing the obligatory red short skirt and feathery bikini top brought Caleb his third Rum and Coke. He took the drink, nodding a thanks to the waitress before replying to his friend, “If you say so. Just be careful, man.”

“Always.” He issued a low whistle when the dancer spun herself fully suspended from the pole upward in a delicate weave. He took the opportunity to change the subject. “How’s Abigail?”

His friend shot him a glare. Reminding a guy about his girlfriend while he was watching a stranger with a double D chest straddle a pole was in gross violation of bro code.

“Seriously? Now?” Caleb shook his head, annoyed, but answered, “She’s fine, I guess.”

“Such love and warmth!” Marco grinned cruelly at his friend.

“Shut up, Marco.” His eyes narrowed in approval as the dancer fingered above her bikini bottoms in front of the men. “Mm, that’s fucking hot.” He realized his counterpart was still dwelling on the subject of his girlfriend though and he rolled his eyes. “She’s cute. She’s sweet. She’s the kind you take home to your parents though, you know? Not the kind that keeps you on your toes, keeps shit exciting.”

Marco was quiet as Caleb’s head nodded in rhythm with the dancer as he made that little “tssk” noise by sucking air between his tongue and teeth. After a moment, Caleb returned to the subject. “Like, take now for instance. She would flip her shit if she knew I was here. I bet Marea sent you on your way with a slap to your ass. I need _that_.

“Ha!” Marco barked at the mental image. His friend wasn’t far off. “Yeah, let me assure you man, it’s not all fun and games all the time for me either. I love my wife to death, but she drives me up the damn wall sometimes too.” He absolutely would NOT mention that the price of freedom and trust... was mutual freedom and trust. He could have his fun. Hers had an appointment at 8pm tomorrow night.

His friend’s eyes didn’t leave the dancer. “Yeah, guess that’s just women, huh?”

“Guess so...”

*****  
  
  


Matthew arrived at the Vincenzo home at exactly 7:53 pm the following day. 

Marea’s now familiar, flirtatious smirk greeted him at the door. She skipped the elegant formalities this time and was dressed far more simply in a short mauve cocktail dress. 

Ushering him into the house, she took his jacket and hung it by the door. Marco sat slumped into a chair at their kitchen table scrolling through his laptop. He was wearing khakis and a t-shirt and did not seem at all confused about why Matt laughed upon seeing him. He simply shot a side-eye glare in response. 

He couldn’t help but tease this guy. “Hoping to avoid the treatment from last time?” Marco said nothing, sternly maintaining the focus on his computer.

Marea busied herself with making drinks in the kitchen while Matthew took a seat at the table next to the other man. When he finally looked up to really regard him, Matthew was just staring out their back window. They had a nice distant view of the city. 

Closing the laptop, Marco decided he couldn’t continue to ignore the other man any longer. He asked how sales were going. They chatted for a bit, Matt made up some believable stuff to vent about and they talked shop for a while. 

Marea appeared balancing 3 drinks in her hands and was as forward as ever. She sat sideways on her husbands lap and played with his hair while insinuating the men should wrap up their conversation. When her unspoken request wasn’t heeded quickly enough, she moved instead to Matthew’s lap, facing and straddling him. 

She draped her arms around the wolf’s neck, shins rested across his thighs so that her feet were to the inside of his knees. The position allowed her to move herself on his lap easily, and when she parted her feet, it spread his knees. His cock jumped to immediate attention.

Pushing up from the wide straddle, she slid her chest straight upwards, pressing tightly against his. Their lips locked and as she continued rising, it bent his head back at a formidable angle in order to continue kissing her face, now above his. 

“Jesus, Marea,” Marco muttered from behind her. 

Matthew’s hands were on her back to embrace her as she climbed him. In response to her husband’s criticism, she grabbed the wolf’s left hand and moved it instead beneath the dress to her bare right ass cheek. Teasing him further, she then gathered the dress up to fully reveal her naked rump and the other man’s hand on it. Each of his fingers pressured a small indent into her smooth skin. 

The wolf gently pushed her just far enough away that he could speak. “Straight to business this time I see! What would you like, Marea?”

She bounced with enthusiasm, excited that the attention was all on her now and at the control the question offered. Her hands cupped one another in front of her mouth and she seductively bit along her finger. “You did promise you’d make up for abandoning us last time...”

“Mhmm, I did.” He waited patiently for her to disclose her hopes.

Her hands began to unbutton his shirt as she spoke, her face making an exaggerated pout, “What will it take to get you to fuck him?” She looked from Matt over to her husband. Matthew followed her eyes to the other man, who suddenly sat rigid and still in his seat. 

“His educated consent.” The wolf deadpanned. “And I fully understand him not wanting to give it.” He spoke softly but firmly. This was something she was clearly hung up on, and something Marco did not want. “Done right, bottoming takes time and patience. It’s not something you rush or force someone into. Ever.” She looked disappointed and annoyed by his finite response, contrasting Marco’s appreciative relief. 

Sigh... “Fine.” She cocked her head to the side and pulled her bottom lip, the makeup there a deep scarlet red, between the perfect pearlescent white of her teeth.  


She was used to getting her way. Her husband rarely put his foot down about things, against her wishes anyway. She wouldn’t continue to force this issue, but at least she could punish him for the disappointment by making him jealous. If he wouldn’t participate how she wanted, fine, he could just sit there and watch. “I want your dick in me then. Right here. Now” 

The wolf stood easily, Marea in his arms. Her legs wrapped his thighs immediately, and remained there as he laid her down on the kitchen table directly behind where they’d sat. The front of her dress was still scrunched up to reveal her naked, splayed lower body. 

Matthew hastily unbuckled his pants and dropped them and his boxers to his knees, assisted by Marea’s legs also pushing the clothing downward. After retrieving and securing a condom, he stood erect and ready to comply with her demands.

Placing his left hand on the table beside her, his lips met hers with fervent intensity as he aligned himself to enter her. 

The doorbell rang in short, panicked bursts.

They laughed into each other’s mouths at the timing. Matt hovered among inch above her, all of her, and whispered “which way to the bedroom?”

Maintaining her smile, she pointed and he lifted her against him with one hand, steadying his pants from falling further with the other. To the bedroom they rushed while Marco headed to the front door to see who had interrupted them. 

Plopping the woman on the bed, Matthew and Marea resumed their deep kiss. The humor of the situation still glazed their actions. When they heard the voices of the men at the door however, all fun ceased. Two of the Vincenzo’s security guards.

”Sir, we need to go. Right now.”


	13. Chapter 13

“What’s happening? Marco asked the two guards. Their demeanor was urgent and serious.

“We have reason to believe you’re being monitored by the LAPD.”

Matt could hear the words from the bedroom clearly. ‘Well, fuck’, he thought to himself.

It was a good thing they were still basically dressed. Matthew quickly re-secured his pants while Marea patted her dress down. The woman threw a worried glance at him before opening the bedroom door.

“I’ll be right behind you,” his words chased her as she left to hear the important information. He furiously glared at the bedroom mirror and mouthed a silent, angry “What the fuck?!” to the eyes looking through his.

Marco and Marea sat in the back of the private security vehicle while they were briefed on the situation. It was a space they knew couldn’t be bugged. Matthew was left to sit at the kitchen table. He knew he would be a possibly suspicious person all of the sudden, and decided that running from the threat may look worse than staying. At least he still had a Martini in here. 

Matt’s jacket had been hung right by the door when he entered. They may not know more than he did now, but at least the LAPD would have heard something was up. That they’d messed up somehow.

The security team didn’t have much as it happens, but they were good at their job. They’d identified the unusual signal volume being transmitted by the nondescript surveillance trailer less than a mile away. “We believe they may be utilizing a drone or other means of monitoring your activity. I’d suggest you vacate the property for a while, let us sweep for any possible bugs and identify what may be tipping them off.”

The Italian couple frowned at one another as they considered the situation.

They had a small yacht, totally off the record, as a backup plan. They decided taking a trip for a while may be the best plan.

“Now,” said the head of their security team, “What do we do with your, uh...friend? I don’t trust him.”

Marea was quiet. She had to consider the option, maybe he was a threat. The timing was suspicious. 

Surprisingly, it was Marco who spoke up to defend the other man. “No, I really don’t think so. Plus, he’s still here now, right? Why would he be here still, take that risk, if he was in on this?”

Completely joking, Marea suggested with a wide grin “Let’s just take him with us!”

She really was just kidding.

And yet an hour later, Matthew was boarding the boat with them. He borrowed clothes from Marco that would fit him well enough temporarily.

The security company was more thorough than he’d ever seen. They insisted that Matthew hand over his phone and the keys to his apartment and car before he left the house. They wanted to search through everything before he had a chance to return to his home and change or hide anything.

He handed it all over gladly, knowing they’d find nothing. 

He was diligent in fully erasing any contact with his handler, any connection or trace to the Hayes and after the car chase/ shooting incident, his name had never been released.

As per his usual situation in life, there was no traceable link between him and anyone else.

  
  


*****

The surveillance contacts weren’t meant to be worn long term and their signal would be impossible for the police to pick up this far offshore. He didn’t have any kind of contact solution or container, so he had no choice but to discard them. 

Off the side of the boat they went on night one.

Two guards were with them, Patrick and Quint. They started to relax around Matthew quite a bit after a few days in such close quarters together. Remaining in communication with the rest of the security service ‘back home’, they knew the search of Matt’s property came up clean, other than his horrible taste in liquor.

On day three of the sailing trip, they ported several hours upstate for some essentials. Matthew insisted on being entrusted with the grocery store run (accompanied by Quint) and had cooked most nights since. 

He loved to cook, and was pretty damn good at it too. It was just never worth it to do anything too extravagant for one person. 

As all of the boat’s five occupants ate his dinner and played poker one evening, Marco and Marea playfully bantered back and forth about who was the better card player. He laughed at their genuine smiles and friendly bickering, and suddenly felt his first true jab of guilt for what he was doing. 

Getting close enough to get information had been the goal, and that was fine. But as Marea laughed so hard she was doubling over and without even thinking about it, she buried her face in Matt’s shoulder to hide her laugh-reddened face, it sank in fully that these people were treating him as a budding friendship.

Earlier that day, Marco had told him about part disasters with an ex and why he appreciated Marea. Even if she could be petty and drove him crazy sometimes. It was sincere and open. And Marea would help him cook, chatting mindlessly and dancing beside (and often up against) him. It was... nice. 

And he was a liar. If he hated anything, it was a liar.

As the laughter and teasing finally quieted down, Matthew told yet another lie and claimed the choppy water was getting to him. He excused himself from the table and the rest of the evening’s camaraderie.

He understood the reasons he was doing all of this. But this was further than he’d hoped to go. He pulled the covers of the small guest room bed over his whole body and stared into the darkness. Eventually the waves lulled him to sleep. 

Seven days total passed on the yacht. They fished, they drank, they fucked. It was mostly a good time. Matt was kept in the loop as far as where they were. He couldn’t help it though, he became increasingly distant as the days passed. 

On day Eight, Marco approached him as he sat on the upper deck, staring into the sunset that was just beginning to etch it’s way across the horizon. The water was smooth as glass, the color of midnight as the sun faded into the sky. 

The man wore a sleeved bath robe and his long hair still dripped water from a recent shower. The evening chill caused goose bumps to blanket his damp skin. 

Taking a seat next to him on the wooden deck chairs, Marco looked the wolf up and down. “Got a lot on your mind?”

Matt nodded a few times slowly and silently before replying, “Yeah...” sigh, “Yeah I do.”

Situating his bare feet under a towel to keep them warm, Marco asked “So what’s troubling you on this beautiful evening?” When Matt didn’t reply quickly, he continued, assuming the source of the other man’s stress. “We’ll get this police shit sorted out. This stuff happens. Shouldn’t be a couple more days and we’ll head back to LA.” 

Matt sniffled as he carefully considered his next words. He finally broke the silence after a large inhale. “Yeah. Yeah, but I don’t think the entirety of this situation is going to be easily fixed.”

Waving his hand in the air dismissively, Marco replied, “They have nothing. If they did, they wouldn’t need to be sending drones or whatever to get info.”

He spoke plainly, without inflection, “I think you and Marea should go back to Italy.” 

Completely taken aback, Marco shifted in his seat to face the other man. Surely it was his vision that had caused him to hear the other man incorrectly. “Excuse me?”

“Here’s the thing, Marco. I have some people working on this too. And the LAPD, they know more about you than you think.”

The man laughed, there was no way this guy knew more than him and his team about HIS situation. “Dude...”

“I like you,” Matt cut him off before he could finish the irrelevant thought. “Both of you. And I don’t want to see you killed or rotting in prison.”

He shook his head in disbelief, looking at the other man like he had to be kidding. “I’d already be arrested if they had anything. They don’t snoop when they already have what they need.”

“They want to take all of you down. Larry for his creation... they’ll get him. Caleb for his help, he’s fucked too. But you and Marea, you can sail your asses to Italy. They don’t have anything on you big enough to extradite you, yet.”

“How in the hell would you know any of this?!” 

From behind them, surprising them both, it was Marea who spoke. She had crept up silently. Her risqué night gown, covered loosely with a robe that matched Marco’s, betrayed her initial intentions. She’d overheard everything.

“Because he’s a rat. That’s how.” Her voice was sure, accusatory. But when Matt turned to see her face, there was sadness there as well. 

Marco still looked confused about what his wife had just said. His head rotated from her, to Matthew and back again. His face pinched as he shook his head and voiced, “No way. We’ve been over this.”

Marea didn’t even look at her husband though, her eyes hadn’t left Matt. They were disappointed more than angry. She spoke with hope that she was wrong, but the words were still more of a statement than a question, “You are... aren’t you?”

He was tired of the lie. He couldn’t keep pretending to be this person he wasn’t. Not for the gain. Slowly, Matt nodded. His wordless answer settled like a cold fog between them all.

As the understanding sank into Marco’s mind, disbelief boiled over into anger. “This whole time? This whole time it’s been a lie?” His breathing quickened and his eyes darkened with fury. “I’ll fucking kill you,” he growled, low and serious.

Both men were still sitting on the deck chairs. Marco rose now and began backing toward his wife. In the same low growl, he spoke to her this time. In Italian. “Get my gun from the bedroom.”

Surprisingly though, Marea didn’t move. She reached out to calmly touch her husband’s angry face. He pulled away and hissed at her, “What the fuck are you doing?!”

She held both of her lips between her teeth, making a straight, small line of her mouth. “Marco,” she began as she brought her forehead against his, “think. Think about this.” 

“Think?! What on earth is there to think about?”, he practically shouted to her.

“Think about what he said. And why he said it. Why would he tell us the truth?”

Marco was too angry to grasp his wife’s logic. His anger boiled over as he side-stepped her grasp and after shooting a glare to the other man, he bolted across the boat’s deck toward the door that led to the lower levels.

Springing to action in immediate pursuit of him, Matthew leapt over the deck furniture and closed the distance between he and the furious Italian within only a few strides. Tackling him before he could reach the door, both of them toppled into the covered outdoor kitchen space on the main deck. 

As he realized he was suddenly cornered in the small space, Marco rounded on the wolf with panicked fury. With fire in his eyes and shoulders squared toward him, a spark of hope empowered him. The utensil drawer of the kitchen had knives.

Breaking eye contact for only a brief flicker, he ripped the drawer open and grabbed the largest knife there.

Matthew stood at the edge of the kitchen space. He had stopped as soon as Marco was cornered. His goal was to calm and ultimately protect the irate human, not to hurt him. Even before Marco bared the knife at him threateningly, he brought his hands up at his sides, palms toward the man to show he meant no harm.

“Marco I’m not going to fight you. I’m trying to help you.” Keeping his hands where they were, he relaxed his posture further in an attempt to comfort him. He didn’t back up though. If Marco reached the door, he’d have his own gun or a guard with one and Matt would be dead before he had the chance to voice his point. 

Marea stepped closer to the two men, as close as she could get to her husband from the other side of the bar-height counter top that formed his barricade. “Marco, please! I think he’s just trying to help us!”

A wild slash of the knife in the air toward Matt was his only reply.

Matthew leaned back only enough to avoid the blade but maintained his stance. His eyes never left the other man’s. “Calm down and hear me out. I’m sorry I betrayed your trust. Kill me if you want but not until after I’ve said what I need to say.”

As the boat rocked gently on the frigid waters, the evening whipped a few cold whispers of air around them. A pause between the three was occupied only by the subtle sounds of the wooden construction of the vessel creaking slightly as it swayed.

The panic in Marco began to subside slightly as he accepted he wasn’t going to be physically attacked again. At least not yet. His breath was still shaky though, spiked with adrenaline. “Why should I believe anything you say?” Adding with a disgusted sneer, “You’re a fucking cop!”

Attempting to calm him further, Matt took a step backwards. Keeping his voice calm and low, he reassured “I’m not a cop, actually. I’m helping the police though, yes. Or I was, anyway. But like I already told you once, I don’t want to see either of you killed or in prison.”

“Why the hell would you care?”, Marco spat back, knife still extended threateningly before him.

Taking a deep breath and hoping his counterpart would do the same, he answered honestly, “Because I believe you’re a good man, Marco. And a good husband.” Matthew relaxed his stance completely and looked calmly between the two Italians. “I was helping the police. But I’m no one’s puppet. I’ve gotten to know you both and want to give you the opportunity to escape this. If you go back to LA, it’s over for you both.”

When the wolf moved to take another step backwards, Marco lunged forward with the knife in another attempt to make contact. He barely missed this time. Matt’s eyes narrowed with warning. He was getting tired of this show. 

“You keep at me with a knife and you’d better know how to kill a man with one.” His tone was even as he leaned casually against the boat’s railing. His words simply fact, dipped in impersonal threat. For the first time, he studied the blade subjectively. Most people didn’t keep their knives nearly sharp enough to make quick work of these things. It was stout enough though and the point was such that it didn’t need to be sharp to do the trick, IF Marco knew how to use it.

But few really knew how to use a blade nowadays. A painful lesson immortality had taught him repeatedly.

Marco glanced to the knife himself. It felt heavy and foreign in his hand. Damp hair, now a combination of water and sweat, clung to his face. Anger had fueled his bravado but he felt suddenly foolish, aware that he had no experience to support his efforts to intimidate the other man.

Sensing his doubt, Matthew pitied the position he had put Marco in. Moistening his wind-chapped lips, he continued, “You can hate me for the past deceit, I don’t blame you. But I won’t tolerate incompetence with that,” he gestured with a nod of his head toward the weapon. “If you want to kill me you fucking kill me. You will not punish my honesty with a torpid, gruesome death.”

It took Marco a moment for the other man’s words to sink in. He lowered the knife finally, realizing that he didn’t have the balls to use it anyway. “I don’t...” he shook his head, loosening some of the hair from his face as he did so, “I don’t understand.”

“I know,” his expression gentled as he gestured to invite Marco out of the confines of the kitchen. “Lets talk. I’ll tell you what I know and I think we can all avoid dying.” 

Reluctantly, Marco moved toward the nearby seating area. He kept the knife with him but made no further attempts to stab the man. Marea interlaced her elbow around his arm, kissing him on the shoulder as they sat down closely together.

“Ok,” Matthew began with a big exhale, “here are my thoughts...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone’s actually reading this, here’s a funny note. I originally wrote for Matthew to be forced to kill both Matthew and Marea by the end of this chapter. I liked them too much though and re-wrote the whole thing to keep them alive.


End file.
